Same but Different
by takalotti
Summary: How differently would Rory's life have turned out if she had fallen for Marty their freshmen year? Romance/Humor, some smut. Nudists.
1. Prologue

**Pairing**: Nudists (Rory/Marty).  
**Summary**: How different would her life have turned out if she had fallen for Marty their freshmen year? Romance/Humor, some smut.  
**Timeline**: Begins in Season 4.  
**Backstory**: All events from Seasons 1-3 are canon for this story except for one. Rory takes out loans for school rather than having her grandparents pay for it, but they still all have Friday Night Dinners together (by choice, not obligation).  
**Spoilers**: Pretty much all seasons.  
**Disclaimer**: All characters, most plot points, and some dialogue belong to ASP. I'm grateful just to borrow them for a time.

**AN**: Please be aware that this story makes a lot of references to events in the show (and alters some when needed). If you haven't watched the entire series you might get spoiled and/or miss out on some added layers in the story, but you shouldn't be lost. This will be all friendship/romance and no "I can't decide which boy I like" angst. Rating is for future chapters (I know I build things slowly, but trust me, we'll get there - I already have a lot of it written. The fanfics that start right off with "and there goes Rory's virginity!" in the first two seconds irk me, as do the ones that are all about the chase and end when they get together, so I figured I'd try to offer something different).

**Beta Update**: I have a beta now - Yay! Thanks, Jewels12! We went over this chapter, so it's been updated since its original release. The changes were mainly comma related, some word choices, but no plot modifications.

* * *

He looked around the modest double, not really knowing where to begin. Should he make his bed? Should he unpack his clothes? Set up his computer? Noting the unpacked bags scattered around his roommate's half of the room, he figured there was no rush, and instead flopped onto his bare mattress. He laced his fingers behind his head, and after getting bored of staring at the cracks in the ceiling, let his eyes drift closed.

He was exhausted from a whirlwind day, a crazy weekend, and a busy week. It felt like it had been seven straight days of packing and shopping with his parents, but he knew that wasn't true. He and his buddies had gone paintballing one day, and just hung out with pizza and a rental a couple other nights. Saturday night had been their one last hurrah together, though no one had actually called it that. Who wants to openly admit to their friends since first grade that things probably wouldn't be the same again? Sure it sucked, but what were they going to do? Sit around and cry together?

Taking a deep, shuddering breath, he exhaled with an over-manly whoosh that puffed out his cheeks and lips. He wished his family could have stuck around a little longer, but they had the long drive back to New Hampshire ahead of them. Well, a three hour drive isn't that long, but when you need to drive down and back in the same day, it can be kind of taxing. It seemed like eons since he had piled into the minivan with his parents and younger brother. They had taken out the back seat to have more room for his stuff, and packed everything yesterday so they could get an early jump on things this morning.

Some time later, he jerked out of his relaxed reverie at the vibration in his pocket. Laughing at himself for not being used to his graduation present yet, he sat up and glanced at the display before answering the phone.

"I _figured_ I'd hear from you first," he said.

"Oh yeah? Why's that?" Ben laughed on the other end of the line.

"Nick's parents have a way shorter drive. There's no way they'd leave earlier than they had to."

"There's no way _any_ of our parents would leave earlier than they had to."

He withheld his disagreement on that point. "Right, so how did your first day go?" he asked instead.

He felt faintly envious as Ben complained about the big deal his mom had made right before leaving. It wasn't that his own parents were cold; it was just that they had gone through this before with his older brother. So it wasn't a momentous occasion – more like an errand. Ben and Nick were the eldest in their families, so of course their parents would be making a big deal out of it, right? It didn't mean anything that his parents hadn't, even though he was pretty sure they would when it was Eddy's turn to go. First and last, _those_ are the momentous occasions.

"What about you?" Ben concluded.

"Pretty standard, I guess. We left early so we could get here around eight. When we arrived, my roommate had already claimed his bed and desk, so we unloaded my stuff around the rest of the room."

"What's he like?"

"I don't know. We didn't hang around long, so I haven't met him yet. We left to go to the various orientation events they had going on, and I only just got back a little while ago."

"Well, I hope he's cool," Ben said.

"Yeah, me too. You still thinking of pledging?" He hoped he didn't sound desperate to continue the conversation. He just liked the company.

"Yeah. I'll be checking out more of the frats tomorrow, but right now I'm leaning toward SigEp. What about you?"

"Nah, I don't think it's for me. Maybe if the three of us had gone to the same place and we were pledging together, but otherwise, it's just not my scene."

"Yeah, I can see that. Oh, hang on a sec, that's Nick."

He waited while Ben greeted the other musketeer and finagled the conference call feature on his phone.

"What up?!" Nick hollered into his ear.

Laughing at his friend's enthusiasm, he said, "Not much, man. How are you free already?"

"My dad helped me convince my mom there really wasn't any need to drag things out, since I'm not even an hour away. Hey, you guys didn't start without me, did you?"

He groaned while Ben answered for them, "We wouldn't dream of it."

"Do we really have to do this?" he complained. He had hoped they had forgotten.

"Absolutely!" Nick chided.

"But I don't know anybody here…" he pleaded.

"Neither do we – that's exactly why we have to do it. We have to mark the beginning of a new era!" Nick shouted dramatically.

"Come on, man," Ben encouraged. "It'll be like we're all doing this together, even though we're not."

Catching Ben's unspoken drift, he sighed and gave in. "All right, let's get this over with."

"That's the spirit," Nick said sarcastically. "Ready?"

"Hold on," he said, while he worked the window open with one hand. "Okay."

He held the phone toward the open window, close enough to his ear so he could hear Nick count them down. "Three, two, ONE!"

"Aoooooooooooo," he howled into the darkened campus, his friends audible only to him. He closed his eyes so he could pretend he was standing on the edge of a quarry with his friends, rather than two stories over students giving him strange looks.

"Anything?" Ben asked.

"Not yet. Again!" ordered Nick.

"Aoooooooooooo," he howled again, laughing in spite of his embarrassment, remembering how they used to howl while cruising around Newport and the rush they would get when people, specifically girls, would howl back.

"What are you doing?" said a bemused voice behind him, causing him to jump out of his skin before he whipped around to see someone standing in the doorway. He hadn't heard the door open due to the howling.

_Great first impression_, he thought, cringing at himself.

Just as he was about to open his mouth to speak, he heard Nick give another command, so he automatically turned back to the window and howled for the third time. Before he could explain himself to his roommate, he heard a husky female voice howl back.

"Holy crap, someone howled back!" he reported to his friends incredulously.

"Was that a girl?" his roommate asked eagerly, stepping up to join him at the window.

They looked at each other and grinned before turning to face out the window. "Aoooooooooooo," they cried out together.

After a pause, the husky voice howled again, followed by a high-pitched and more timid howl. The boys howled again and were rewarded to hear the two girls call back in unison, before a chorus of other howls echoed around the building.

He realized he hadn't really been paying attention to the commotion on his phone after his roommate walked in. Bringing the phone back to his ear, he heard Nick announce, "Success! Well, guys, college has officially begun."

Laughing, he decided it was time to take his leave. "Listen, my roommate just arrived, so I'll catch you guys later, okay?"

"Yeah, later," Ben said, as Nick continued howling on his end.

Hanging up, he turned to his roommate. "Sorry about that, sort of a tradition with my friends back home."

"No, man, that's cool. Hopefully we'll get to meet those girls later. That first one sounded sexy."

He actually preferred the second girl. _She sounded cute,_ he thought, before his roommate extended his hand.

"Anyways, I'm Carl."

Shaking hands, he said, "Hey, Carl, I'm Marty."

* * *

**AN**: Yes, I know that reveal wasn't that much of a shock since you likely already knew the ship pair before reading. But hopefully it was still fun. Also, in trying to give Marty some background and character depth, I hope I succeeded in showing him as a vulnerable nice guy and not a wuss or a self-pitying whiner. I tend to be subtle about some things and don't spell them out so if you have any questions feel free to ask.


	2. Non Introduction

**AN**: I have ignored the concept of "shopping week" brought up on the show. The classes Rory goes to are the classes she has. Also, I hope they don't mind but I want to give a quick little shout out to MeliB1987, doctor gilmore, Miguel51* and Curley-Q*: I'm so flattered you added this story to your alert list! *And double thanks for the reviews!

**Beta update**: I found a beta! So let's all shout "Thanks, Jewels12!" We went over this chapter, so it's been updated since its original release. The changes were mainly comma related, some word choices, but no plot modifications.

* * *

Rory turned before entering the building to give her mom one last wave.

Lorelai had teased her for getting out the door so early, but it was the first day of classes! Didn't she understand how exciting and important that was? If you only left on time, something like a long coffee line, or a room relocation could set you back, and this was not a day to be late. You might get stuck with a crappy seat, or they might run out of handouts.

The halls weren't full by any means, but there was enough activity that Rory felt like electricity was crackling in the air. Either that, or she had forgotten to throw a dryer sheet in her laundry.

She started to wonder if the other people around her were trying to get to class early, just like her. At Stars Hollow and Chilton she had often been the first one in the classroom, but that was high school. Maybe Ivy League colleges were full of people who arrived early. So you have to arrive super early to be early, and if you were just plain, old 'high school early' you were actually –

_Late!_ Rory thought with sudden panic.

She didn't realize how much her pace had quickened as she glided around the last corner. When she reached the door of the classroom, she burst in, ready to greet all the other early birds.

Rory felt her posture collapse a little as she sighed, looking around at the empty room.

_So much for there being anyone else like me._

She shrugged off her disappointment and looked on the bright side – she still had first pick for the seating. Rory pulled out a chair on the far side of the table so her back would be to the window. She sat down and looked around, her hands drumming impatiently.

_No, no, this won't do,_ she quickly realized and stood up.

She moved down the table, farther from the door (which would be almost as distracting as the windows). This time her seat felt right: a proper balance of angles and distances from the blackboard, windows, and door. After she put her bag down, she sat poised for class, happily tapping her hands as she tried to contain her giddy excitement. She checked her watch and frowned. It was earlier than she thought. To kill some time, she decided to get in a good bit of reading before class started.

She had barely cracked the book open before her mother's voice crept back into her head. Yes, it was good to be early, but was she being ridiculously early? She looked at her watch again and rolled her eyes at herself. What had once seemed like a comfortable cushion, now seemed like a gaping chasm of time. She should leave now and come back later like a normal student.

_Maybe I could go back to the coffee cart and grab a Danish._ Sheepishly, she picked up her bag and started to rise.

But she plopped right back down again, startled by the door being opened. Her heart was racing, as if she had been caught vandalizing, while she quickly changed gears from trying to escape, to trying to look comfortable.

Glancing up, she saw a friendly looking boy with curly brown hair. He set his bag on the table, giving her a small smile.

_Say something,_ she scolded herself, but quickly backed down. She would sound like she was part of some bizarre welcoming committee.

She snuck a peek again as the boy tucked in his chair. He smiled again, and this time it was warmer. He looked just as scared and nervous and awkward as she did.

_All you have to say is, 'Hi, I'm Rory.'_ She opened her mouth, ready to speak.

* * *

"Wow, you're up early," Carl observed as he rolled out of bed.

"Yeah, I have an 8:30 class," Marty half explained, dropping the last few items into his bag.

"Uh, yeah, so do I. Oh, are you heading out to breakfast? I can be ready in two seconds if you wanna head over together."

"Oh, uh, yeah, not this morning. Sorry. But how about tomorrow?"

Marty squirmed a bit while Carl spoke to him like he was a crazy person. "Sure. Okay."

He kept his eyes focused on his shoes while he tied them. If he looked up, he'd see Carl's questioning stare, and he'd feel obligated to explain. But he knew the more he explained, the crazier he'd appear. "Okay. I'll see you later then," he said as he left their room.

Thirteen years. In thirteen years, he had never once made it to his first class of the year on time. No matter what he did, something always happened. In elementary school, it took his parents a day or two to get up to speed with the new morning routine. When he started taking a bus, that first day always dragged out with parents giving prolonged goodbye hugs, or some massive traffic jam caused delays.

Now he was finally in full control of his morning and he refused to let his guard down. If he had gone to the cafeteria with Carl, he might have lost track of time, or he might not have had the guts to leave early out of fear of Carl laughing at him, or he would have dumped a tray of food on himself and had to go back to his room to change. _Something _would have happened, he was sure. He would not let the universe mess this up. Today was his first day of his first year of college, and he was determined to start off on the right foot. No more bumbling, dopey, hapless Mar –

"Ah!" he yelped, as his ankle rolled off the edge of the sidewalk and he tumbled sideways into the low bushes lining the path. Maybe he _should_ have gone to the cafeteria with Carl.

He jumped back up as quickly as possible and checked himself, ignoring the chuckles of nearby students. No injuries, no tears in his clothing, just some leaves here and there. He fluffed the bushes to erase the dent he made in them, grateful that the incident hadn't turned into an actual set back.

When he got to the coffee cart, there was quite a line, but it would take just as long to wait in it as it would to find somewhere else to grab a bite. If it took _too _long, he could always bail out and just be hungry during his first class, he reasoned.

At the front of the line, the taller of two brunettes was chatting and flirting loudly with the vendor, as he prepared their orders. Marty took out a small novel and turned to the bookmarked page. He kept his eyes on the print in front of him, but had trouble staying focused due to the chatter coming from a bench near the middle of the line.

"What? I just asked what his name was."

"Yes, right before you offered to have his babies."

"I did not."

"'What do you think we should name the children?' is the same thing."

"Prude."

"Slut."

Marty did his best to stifle his guffaw. He didn't mean to eavesdrop, but the line was moving along so that he was almost in front of the talkative girls. Reading was a lost cause for now, but having his eyes locked on the book kept him from looking up and giving away that he had been listening to them.

"Excuse me, I haven't even been on a date in I don't know how long. I hardly think I qualify as a slut. How about a tease?"

"You're only a tease if what you do gets them hot," said the other girl, with a slightly affected tone to her voice.

"I don't do anything," the first one said in exasperation, playing along.

_That's why you're a tease,_ he thought, finishing the quote in his head as the other girl spoke it aloud. Marty tried to confine his amused smile to the right side of his face where they couldn't see it.

"All right, I can tell you're starting to get impatient. Which way do we go from here?"

The girls walked away, and Marty noticed there were only a couple people in front of him now. He glanced at his watch, glad that there was still a good amount of time before class. When he got his order, he took a seat at a nearby bench. His more cautious side was telling him to take the coffee and Danish to the classroom and eat it there, but he was sure that was some sort of social faux pas, and decided he could tempt the fates a little while longer. He could finish everything and still get to class in plenty of time.

After he polished off his breakfast, he threw away his trash, then visited a bathroom to wash his hands and make sure he didn't have any cherry jelly on his face.

When Marty walked into the classroom he was surprised to find it was already occupied by a fidgeting girl. He smiled at her and caught her eye for a moment.

_Speak!_ he urged himself, but she had already turned away from him. He watched her laugh nervously and tuck her hair behind her ear, looking eager and ready for class.

He felt like an intruder, so he seated himself as quietly as possible. He immediately regretted his selection. First off, being this far away from the only other person in the room was incredibly awkward. Second, the blackboard was mostly behind him. If the professor wrote anything up there, he'd have to twist in his seat to see it. But it was too late. He had already taken a seat and there was someone else in the room. He'd look like a weirdo trying out different seats, or worse yet, like a creep who wanted to get closer to her.

When she looked back up again, he smiled and thought, _Look, just say, 'Hi, I'm Marty.'_

For a moment, it looked like she was going to say something, but then the TA snapped the door open. As Marty peeked under a page of the syllabus, he sighed, lamenting the end of orientation week, when it hadn't been strange to strike up a conversation in line or in the elevator. Now, it was like everyone on campus had curled back into their shells, including him.

* * *

Rory wasn't sure if she was grateful for, or annoyed at the interruption. Although, silently watching the TA distribute the syllabi to empty chairs was uncomfortable, it was better than the non-conversation she'd been having with her classmate. On the other hand, she had been _this close_ to starting a conversation, and now she wasn't sure if she could muster the courage again.

She pretended to busy herself with reading the packet, as if she didn't already know the class met on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays. She looked over and saw her classmate watching the TA expectantly, not quite like a kiss-up, but more like a lost puppy waiting for his next instruction.

The TA lightly scoffed, "Freshmen," before stepping out.

_Excuse me?_ Rory thought, scrunching up her face. She shared a bashful look with the boy before turning to the next page.

_Okay, maybe there's __**one**__ person like me._


	3. Before and After

**AN**: Many thanks to my beta, Jewels12. Not only did she beta this new chapter, but she also went over the first two chapters. I've already updated them, but the changes were just grammar corrections and some word choice - nothing plot related. Also, a couple more people added this story to their alerts: Thanks! And thanks again to Miguel51 and Curley-Q for the reviews!

* * *

Marty couldn't help but laugh at himself and the scene around him. He had been childish to think college parties would be more sophisticated than high school ones. If anything, they were more inane. At least in high school, you knew the people you were partying with. This just felt backwards, going to a party in order to meet people.

His roommate, who had urged him to come out for the party, had bailed on him. So here he stood, alone, his hands fidgeting nervously, having no idea how to strike up a conversation with a complete stranger. For the first time, he understood why people might drink at parties. Heading over to the keg, he thought back to his life before Yale. Some of the greatest nights he'd shared with his buddies hadn't even included beer – though Ben and Nick drank on occasion, they didn't need it to have a good time. He knew he had to get over the insecurities that resulted from not having his buddies by his side anymore, and he hoped that the cup of beer would give him a boost in the confidence department.

Now with the cup in his hands, he was more aware of how he was getting jostled from all sides in the crowded room that was quickly developing a weird smell, so he slowly made his way out to the hallway. But no matter where he stood, he felt either in the way, or that he was awkwardly intruding on other conversations. Eventually, he made his way to a small corner by the building's entrance, and took a few sips.

_Oh yeah, this is much better_, he thought sarcastically. _You're way more likely to meet people here._

He bargained with himself that he'd only stay out here long enough to finish his beer, and then he'd bite the bullet and go back in. He should be sufficiently loosened up by then to be able to mingle.

As he settled for people-watching over the brim of his cup, Marty tried to knock some sense into his head. He had never been aware of how much he relied on the support of his friends until this week. In high school, he had always been part of class discussions. So far at Yale, he hadn't piped up once. He couldn't ignore the fact that it was reassuring to know, that even if you made an ass out of yourself, your friends had your back, whether in class or at a party. So far, he just felt incredibly exposed.

Marty's gaze jumped from person to person, worried that if he lingered too long on anyone, he would look creepy. He paused when he noticed a quiet looking girl with long brown hair staring at him. Just as he realized he knew her from one of his classes, he noticed her move towards him.

_Holy crap, is she coming over here?_ he thought incredulously.

He straightened up as he sucked in a breath, both nervous and relieved about the possibility of having someone to talk to.

She was greeted by two girls, whom she led into another room without a second glance at him. Marty slouched back into the wall. Of course, she was just approaching her friends. He had been foolish to think she was coming over to see him. Why would anyone remember the class mute? He pinched his lips together, determined to speak up in class next week.

Marty swallowed the last gulp of his beer, and steeled himself for re-entry into the mob. He bopped around to the music, swaying with the crowd instead of feeling jostled by it, as he made his way back to the keg.

* * *

Marty groaned as he stirred on Sunday morning, the throbbing in his head joined by a pulsing sound in his ears. He sat up and opened his eyes, immediately wincing and clamping them shut against rays of light that crept around the edge of the window shades. He blindly groped for his glasses on his end table, and put them on before peeking his eyes open.

When they had adjusted to the brightness and could be opened all the way, he realized everything was blurry. He lifted his glasses off his nose and everything magically came into focus.

_Oh, this can't be good. Either you got bitten by a super spider last night, or you slept in your contacts._

Refolding his glasses, Marty rose to his feet and grabbed his eye drops, contact case, and contact solution. Walking around the room in a daze, he felt a draft, so he automatically cinched the robe around him tighter. He stepped into his flip-flops before walking out in the hallway, shuffling toward the bathroom for his floor. He heard a couple guys snickering at him as he stumbled along.

_Yeah, yeah, go ahead and laugh at the newbie who can't handle his drink._

"Hey, Carl," he mumbled to his roommate, who was returning from the bathroom in a towel, shampoo and soap in hand.

"Morning, Don Juan." Carl smirked as they passed. Marty paused and looked back, but Carl didn't add anything else.

_Whatever_, Marty thought as he stepped into the bathroom. _He's probably hung-over, too_.

He bellied up to the counter and set his things down. After putting a couple drops in each eye to loosen the contacts, Marty washed his hands and then filled them with cold water. Leaning over, he splashed the water on his face, hoping to knock some of the fog out of his head. As he patted himself dry with a paper towel, Marty noticed his reflection in the mirror for the first time. He scrunched his eyebrows together in confusion.

_When did I put on my robe? Did I sleep in it? Wait a second, I don't even own a robe._

He stepped back away from the counter, looked down, and saw more than half of his thighs sticking out from under the baby blue fabric. Marty snapped his head back up and stared at himself in sheer panic.

_Am I wearing a girl's robe?!_

He quickly blasted solution into each side of the case, before leaning forward into the mirror and snatching each lens out. Then he popped on his glasses, closed his contact case, and hustled back to his room.

Marty burst into the room and slammed the door shut behind him. Throwing his stuff on his desk, he turned on Carl. "What the hell happened last night?!"

"How should I know, man?" Carl laughed amiably, pulling up his jeans.

"I mean it, Carl!"

"So do I, Marty."

"If you don't know, then why did you call me Don Juan?"

"Because you were pounding on our door at about three in the morning wearing that, so I figured you got lucky. Not bad for our first party."

Marty sank down onto his bed and dropped his head into his hands. This didn't make any sense. There was no way he would have slept with anyone last night, was there?

Slowing down his breathing, Marty concentrated as best he could. Bits and pieces of the previous night popped into his head. He remembered losing count of how many beers he had consumed. He remembered being cold and waking up to a tickling sensation on his face. He remembered talking to the girl from his Japanese Fiction class as he realized he was lying naked in the hallway.

"I didn't sleep with anyone, Carl," he said, his voice hollow with embarrassment.

"Whatever you say," Carl returned skeptically, pulling his shirt on over his head.

"I mean it," Marty insisted, raising his head to look at his roommate.

"Okay, then what happened?"

"I'll only tell you if you swear you won't make fun of me."

"No promises, man." Carl smiled.

Marty sighed, and reasoned that it was highly unlikely any guy would want his roommate to be known as the Naked Guy. Carl might mock him, but probably wouldn't spread the story around.

"I got drunk and ended up falling asleep in the hallway… naked."

"What?" Carl laughed. "Remind me not to be around when you're drinking."

"No kidding. A girl came out, woke me up, and lent me her robe so I didn't have to walk back here naked." _Rory,_ he remembered.

"Jeez, you're lucky she didn't call campus police on you. So where are your clothes?"

"I'm assuming at the party we went to. Oh, this is going to be fun. 'Hi, I was at your party last night. Any chance you noticed my clothes lying around anywhere?' Plus, I'm going to have to return this robe to that girl. God, how much more shame can I pile on myself?"

"Okay, look, drama queen, I'll go get your stuff if you promise I'll never have to do this again. Next time you might not be lucky enough to have a robe fairy, and I don't want to deal with you coming home full frontal, got it?"

"Got it. Thanks, man."


	4. A Young Reporter

**AN**: If I ever don't thank my beta, Jewels12, I'll feel dirty. And not the good kind of dirty. So, thank you, Jewels12! And thanks as (I hope) always to Miguel51 and Curley-Q for the reviews! And now, on with the show!

* * *

Rory woke up one snooze after nine. Since she had spent most of Saturday preparing for, or being at the floor party, all of her weekend studying fell to Sunday, so she wanted to get an early start on it.

By the time she was showered and heading off to the library, she figured it wouldn't be too early to call her mom. She held down the '3' on her phone, and reconsidered her previous assumption when a groggy voice answered.

"Mmmmmph?"

"Morning, Mom."

"What time is it?" Lorelai's voice sounded muffled, her face likely plastered to her pillow.

"Ten."

"You know, with you moved out, I thought I might actually get a chance to sleep in on weekends."

"Ten o'clock _is_ sleeping in," she chided.

"Says you. Wait a second," her mom said, sounding a little more alert. She could hear the rustle of sheets, indicating that her mom was turning over and sitting up. Lorelai's voice turned sympathetic, as she groaned, "Oh, no…"

"Oh, no, what?"

"The party sucked, didn't it?"

"The party didn't _suck_."

"Rory, if the party had been any good, we'd be having this conversation three hours from now, and I'd be the one waking you up. The party sucked."

"If you insist."

"You didn't end up in your room, did you?"

"Only for a second, and then I went right back out again."

"That's my girl. So, what happened?"

"A bunch of guys did push ups in our room, I was shanghaied by some of Grandma's friends, Paris kicked everyone out around ten, I ran into a naked guy, and – "

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, a naked guy?" It was clear that Lorelai was fully awake now. "I thought you said this party sucked."

"Actually, _you_ said the party sucked."

"Well, clearly I was mistaken. Details, please, my young reporter."

"Okay, well, after I came out of my room, I decided to check out the other parties. In the hallway, I recognized someone from class…" Rory rattled off, remembering how relieved she had been to see a familiar face. Was it just her wishful thinking, or had he recognized her, too? "… but before I could go talk to him, the Doublemint Twins popped up in front of me. Apparently, Grandma is friends with their mom, and she sent them over to make sure I fell in with the right crowd."

"Ugh, the master puppeteer at her finest. This all comes back to that furniture, you know."

"I told you, I only accepted it because I felt bad for turning down their offer to pay for Yale. I figured if I did that, she'd feel sufficiently included and then back off."

"Are you kidding? This is Emily Gilmore you're talking about. You give her an inch, she takes a lightyear."

"Do you want to hear this story, or not?"

"Right, right. Okay, so what happened with the twins?"

"I was stuck with them all night. They tried to give me a 'nick,'" Rory said with ironic cheer.

"A 'nick'?"

"A nickname."

"Why didn't you just say that then?"

"Because that's what they called it."

"So they tried to make up a new nickname for Lorelai?"

"No, for Rory."

"But Rory _is_ a nickname."

"You think I don't know this?"

"So they tried to give you a nickname for your nickname?"

"Technically, they tried to give me a nick for my nickname, but yes. I was actually relieved when Paris lost it and kicked everyone out. I didn't go to any of the other parties after that, in case they sniffed me out. So, that was it."

"Wait, where does Naked Guy fit in?"

"Oh, right. I woke up in the middle of the night, and on my way to the bathroom, I heard snoring, but it wasn't coming from any of the bedrooms. I went to the door and there was a naked guy asleep on his stomach in the hallway." She had been quite shocked at the sight of him that night. Even after two high school boyfriends, that was the closest she'd ever come to seeing the full monty.

"Oh my god, you have a naked stalker?" Her mother's tone was a mix of shock and giddy envy.

"No, Mom, he wasn't even at our door. If anything, suite four has a naked stalker."

"What happened?"

"I don't know. I didn't ask."

"No, I mean, what did you do?"

"Oh. I woke him up." Rory rolled her eyes at herself, remembering the internal debate she'd had that night. Her first instinct had been to nudge his shoulder with her hand, but that seemed too intimate. For a moment, she had thought of using her foot, but that would just be insulting. Like a dork, she had settled on dangling her robe tie in his face. "Turns out it was a guy from one of my classes, the one I recognized. His name is Marty. I lent him my robe so he could go back to his room with some semblance of dignity."

She left out the part where he almost stood up and flashed her. _Some details should be left off the record_, she reasoned.

"And that was it? You didn't make him put out in return for this favor?"

"What?! No!" cried Rory indignantly.

"Well, that was very chivalrous of you."

"Yes, I thought so."

"So, my daughter saw her first naked guy."

"It wasn't that big of a deal, Mom." But Rory remembered how she had gone back into her suite and leaned against the closed door. Covering her mouth, she had let a small smile sneak across her flushed face before returning to her room, her trip to the bathroom forgotten.

_Okay, maybe it had been a big deal_, she admitted to herself.


	5. Points of View

**AN**: First and foremost, thanks to my lovely beta, Jewels12. She's always helped with commas, word choices, and some sentence structure tweaks, but this chapter had a very messy spot that required a second draft to clear up. Next set of thanks go to the folks who left me reviews. And last but not least, thanks to the folks who added this story to their alerts over the past couple chapters. You know who you are, and I hope I keep holding your interest!

* * *

It was Monday morning, the second week of classes. Rory was starting to feel like she had a bit of a routine. She knew where and when her classes were, and how soon to arrive at the coffee cart before the line grew too long. As she walked down the hall to her Japanese Fiction class, she flipped through her reading notes from the night before, so she would be prepared for the discussions. Glancing at her watch, she rolled her eyes at herself. She could hear her mother teasing her for being early, yet again, but she didn't care. She preferred the calm of showing up early, to the frenzy of squeaking through the door right on time.

Rory glanced up periodically from her notes, to make sure she didn't crash into anyone or anything, and that's when she spotted someone standing outside her classroom.

_Ha! See, Mom, someone else is here even earlier than I am_, she thought, sending her mom a pseudo-telepathic message.

As she walked a little closer, she thought it might be that guy, Marty, but he was wearing a hat, and she was far away, so she couldn't be sure. Whoever he was, he looked like he was making a conscious effort to look casual. Rory paused in the hallway, not sure what to make of this lurker.

He was leaning sideways against the wall, with his bag slung over his right shoulder. He reached his right hand around back and brought it forward again, as if he were patting his bag. When he did it a second time, the strap slipped off his shoulder. He flinched to catch it, and quickly plastered his back to the wall, as if nothing had happened. After a beat, he adjusted the bag so that his arm went through the other strap, holding it against his stomach. His hands moved to a zipper, but didn't open it. After the second time he made this move, he gave his bag a small nod of approval. He started playing with the string on his hoodie, tugging it left and right to match some unheard rhythm.

Suddenly, he dropped his hands, rested his head back against the bricks, and became still. After a deep breath, he shook his head, looked down at his watch, and shot out of the nearby exit.

_What the hell was that?_ she wondered, and then resumed her walk down the hall.

When she reached the classroom and saw it was empty, she sighed and sent her mom an addendum to her earlier message:

_Never mind_.

Rory walked around to the other side of the table and took her favorite seat. She organized her binder, coffee, novel, and pens in front of her, checked that her phone was on 'silent', and tucked her bag neatly at her feet. Noticing that the clock had barely budged an inch, she began flipping through her notes again, but her mind wandered a little.

_If that __**was**__ Marty, was he waiting for __**me**__ outside of class? But then he took off, so maybe he's trying to avoid me. Oh, get over yourself… Who says he even remembers you? I'm probably never seeing that robe again._

A couple students came in, chatting together, before taking seats next to each other. She looked at them longingly, self-conscious over the fact that she had yet to make such a friendship.

_Headmaster Charleston was right. I'm a loner. I'm going to be Kirk._

Rory felt herself shudder as the door opened again, but she was pretty sure there hadn't been a draft. At this point, her classmates came in at a steady rate before the professor joined them. The stragglers arrived, including Marty, who entered with a steaming cup of coffee in hand, and walked resolutely to the other end of the table, but on the same side as she was.

_Yup, definitely doesn't remember me_, she thought before uncapping her pen and turning to a fresh page in her binder.

* * *

Marty jogged back to the classroom from the coffee cart, confident that he had killed enough time so he wouldn't be stuck alone with her. Overheated from his errand, he stopped to take off his hoodie and tie it around his waist. During his pause, he became a bit concerned that he had lost the chance to choose where he sat.

_If the only spots left are next to, or across from her, I'm skipping._

He took off his ball cap so his vision wouldn't be obstructed, and shoved it into a pocket. Walking past once, he scanned the room through the window in the door, noting where she was sitting and where some empty seats were. When he doubled back and entered the room, he was able to make a beeline to a seat that would keep them out of each other's sight.

Marty reached into the main compartment of his bag, trying to ignore the bulging front pocket. He flipped through the notebooks, only to realize none of them was for this class. He picked one and tore out a page, brushing a few of the little t-shaped scraps of paper onto the floor. When the professor referred to a particular passage, he turned back to his bag, only to find he hadn't packed the novel for this class, either. He scowled at the front pocket, as if somehow it was to blame for this mistake. Marty tried not to be frustrated with himself, knowing he was only unprepared because he had been preoccupied that morning.

He looked up at the board, where the page number of the passage was written, and then turned his attention back to the instructor at the other end of the room. For a moment, Marty dropped his eyes and allowed himself to glance down to her part of the table. A pair of hands were moving swiftly and effortlessly between novel and binder, swapping out different colored pens for some unknown, but clearly defined purpose.

_Under the definition of "organized" there must be a picture of her_, he thought enviously. _At least, in the unabridged dictionary._

He jotted down the page number, but luckily he recognized the passage when the student across from him began reading it. It was one he knew well. He had highlighted it and read it over and over until he felt it was a part of him.

"Does anyone have any thoughts they'd like to share?" the professor asked.

Marty had promised himself he would make a conscious effort to speak up in class. Though the embarrassment of this weekend weakened his resolve, Rory _was _out of sight. Maybe he could trick himself into pretending she wasn't there and stick to his plan. With a deep breath, he forced himself to settle into his old confidence, before raising his hand.

* * *

"Yes, Mr…."

"Fischer," said one of her classmates, before launching into a very in-depth analysis. Rory's hand flew over her binder, trying to keep up.

Some of the points brought up were ones she had thought of the night before, but she hadn't focused on that passage when she had written her reading notes. Some of the deeper parallels amazed her, to the point that her hand stilled and hovered over the paper.

_Why didn't I see that?_ she wondered, but her own thoughts sounded far away as her classmate kept talking.

"I mean, that's what I took from it, at least," he finished humbly.

"Very insightful, Mr. Fischer," the professor praised.

_And impressive_, Rory thought, as she shook herself out of her reverie.

She looked down and saw the meandering scrawl her pen had written while she had been distracted. Someone else was responding to Mr. Fischer, so she leaned forward, curious to see which classmate had drawn her in like that. She quickly sat back and returned to scribbling in her binder.

_Marty? Really?_

She struggled to record her reactions to his analysis, but they weren't coherent thoughts she could write down. Frustrated, she brought her attention back to the current discussion and began taking notes on that.


	6. First Draft

**AN**: Thanks so much, Jewels12, for beta-ing this chapter, even though you had a busy family week. You know what your prize is! ;) MP gets a special guest star appearance in my thank yous, too (AN at the end explains why). Also, I just wanted to let you know I'm off to Germany on 10/17, so I won't be responding to new reviews right away, and my next posting will be a _little_ later than usual. Just by a couple days though. Until then, enjoy!

* * *

Rory swept into the dining hall, picking up a Styrofoam container without changing her stride. She pathetically jiggled out as much cereal as she could, not stopping to think about how she was going to add the milk, and then noticed an employee removing a tray.

"Excuse me, excuse me. Can I…" she asked, snagging the last waffle before it disappeared. "Yes, thank you."

While she picked up half a Danish and took a fork, a little voice in her head bitterly mimicked Paris. _"Tuesday is Waffle Bar day."_ When nothing came out of the coffee maker, she decided not to waste her time bothering to check the other dispensers. She was determined to leave the cafeteria with some amount of dignity, so she turned away from the taunting mugs in frustration, only to be startled by a boy standing directly in front of her.

"Rory," he said.

"Marty." She was surprised he remembered her _at all_, much less her name. It had been a little over two weeks since that revealing night, and he hadn't given any indication he recognized her since.

"You remembered."

"Well, I wasn't the one passed out in the hallway, so I had a better shot." Immediately, she cringed, realizing that her irritation with Paris put a little too much sting in her sarcasm.

"True, very true," Marty admitted with a chagrined, but hot hurt, expression. "So, I see you're a little late for breakfast."

"Yeah. My alarm was turned off," she explained pitifully as he casually reached over into her personal space, closing the lid on her sad little collection of food.

"Well, hey, you want some eggs or something?" he offered, gesturing to a table with four trays and three students, who were talking animatedly together. "I always take enough for ten. I blame my brother, Danny. He always took the biggest piece of chicken."

"And left you none?"

"No, there was plenty more. I just really wanted that big piece." Rory swallowed her chuckle, not sure if he meant to make a wisecrack or not. "So, eggs?"

"Um, sure. I mean, yeah, thanks."

"Good. You'll get a chance to meet the Breakfast Crew, too."

"The Breakfast Crew?"

"Yeah, Steve, Julie, and Carl," he explained as he lead her over, pointing to each person in turn as they approached the table. "We all just started eating breakfast together every morning, so someone came up with the name The Breakfast Crew. I mean, it's not like an official club or anything. There're no hats. At least not until we can all agree on a color." Rory stole a glance at him, but couldn't read his deadpan expression. "Uh, excuse me, guys. I want you all to meet Rory."

"Who?" asked Steve, the boy on her right, while Marty pulled a chair up to the end of the table.

"The robe," Marty murmured. He tucked Rory's chair in underneath her, and then slid into the seat on her left.

"Oh, the robe," said the other boy knowingly, beaming like a Cheshire cat. "Nice to meet you." Rory meekly lifted her hand in greeting since Carl was on the other side of Marty, too far to shake hands.

"I told them about your act of kindness," Marty explained.

"Oh, it was nothing, really."

"I wouldn't say that," a female voice chimed in. "That was one nice robe," Julie complimented, flashing Rory a friendly smile. "I wouldn't have loaned it to any of these yahoos," she said, her fork sweeping lazily around the table.

"We all took turns trying it on," said Carl, throwing Rory a wink before glancing over to watch Marty squirm. Rory started to relax a little. It was like they were welcoming her into an inside joke.

"Uh, not true," Marty immediately corrected with a panicked expression. "Ignore him. I'm sorry I haven't given it back to you yet."

"Oh, it's okay. I have a spare," she said with a smile, gesturing to her current attire. She didn't have the heart to tell him she bought it after giving up hope he'd return the first one.

"Nice bunny shoes," Steve teased playfully.

"Thank you," Rory said, scooping some food off the plate Marty held out to her. "I usually wear my penguins, but haven't seen them in a couple days. I'm guessing they joined the march."

The others chuckled at her silly quip, and Rory felt like she was finally making some friends.

* * *

A little while later, Steve, Julie, and Carl had to excuse themselves for class. As they gathered up their trash, they chattered over each other.

"Later, man. It was nice meeting you," Steve said, nodding to each of them in turn.

"See you around, Rory. Try not to send him home drunk this time," Carl requested with a grin.

"I hope we see you again. It's nice having another girl in the mix," Julie whispered conspiratorially before she scooted off.

"Bye, guys," Rory said.

"Yeah, see ya," Marty called after them. Turning back to Rory, he said, "Sorry if that was uncomfortable."

"Oh, no, your friends are nice. They made me feel right at home."

"I was just so relieved that I could finally approach you."

"Why couldn't you approach me?" she asked innocently, though she knew she was equally to blame for their lack of contact.

"Well, that night was really humiliating, and every time I saw you in class, you were such a model student that I became more convinced you must think I was a loser. So I just avoided you." Rory suddenly felt childish for ignoring him, when all along he had remembered her. "But then when I saw you show up this morning like that, I thought, 'maybe today she'd be more sympathetic to a loser.'"

"I never thought you were a loser, Marty." She didn't realize how intimidating a student she could be. _Am I his Paris?_ she wondered.

"Well, it still wasn't a good first impression. I came across as a drunk, when I don't even drink."

Rory's forehead crinkled in confusion. "You might want to check the expiration date on your apple juice, then."

"Yeah, no, I mean, I did drink that night," he admitted. "I just don't drink, normally. Probably why I became drunk so easily, huh?" He laughed at himself for a moment before earnestly concluding, "I just didn't want you to think that was standard operation for me."

"Duly noted. But, that still doesn't explain how you ended up naked outside my room." Rory looked at him with an expectant smirk on her face.

"I told you: I was drunk. Really, really drunk."

"I'm sure lots of people were drunk that night, Marty. Not everyone made the leap to public indecency, though."

Marty sighed heavily. "You're actually going to make me go into detail?" he weakly protested.

"Hey, I literally saved your butt that night. Shouldn't I at least get to hear why it needed to be saved?"

"How do you know I even remember what happened?"

"Because if you didn't, you would have said so by now."

She giggled when she saw Marty flinch, clenching his hands into fists and pursing his lips together. He eyed her cautiously. "Promise you won't tell anyone?"

"Yes, I promise," she said, raising one hand to emphasize the oath.

"Fine," he said, smoothing a hand down his face. "We've already established this isn't standard operation for me, right? I mean, I was –"

"Really, really drunk. Yes, I heard."

"So, you're not going to judge me on any of this, right?"

Rory shrugged her shoulders and took another bite of her eggs.

"Fair enough. Okay, so I was at one of the parties, drinking and dancing. Some girl - who was almost as drunk as I was - kept calling me 'Johnny', and started unbuttoning my shirt. It sounded like the whole room was chanting, 'Take it off! Take it off!'. So I did. But they continued shouting and cheering, so I continued undressing."

Her eyebrows shot up at this, wondering why anyone would do that.

"Yeah, I don't know," he said helplessly, answering her expression. "It seemed like a good idea at the time. Right before I flung my last sock into the crowd, a girl came charging in from the hallway, shrieking at another girl about letting the party spin out of control. Everyone started pouring out of the room, so I just followed them. It wasn't until the shrieker slammed the door behind me that I noticed I forgot my key in the room."

"Your key. _That's_ the only thing that struck you as being out of place?"

"I know, right?" he agreed, shaking his head at the ridiculousness. "I knew I was naked, but it didn't seem to phase me. I just kept knocking on that door, and eventually, everything became blurrier and blurrier. The next thing I knew, I was cold and waking up to something tickling my face. It took another couple days until everything else started coming back to me."

"So that's the Naked Guy story."

"Yup, that's it. But everyone else gets the shorthand version, right?"

"Right."

"Thanks… I actually brought it to class once."

"Brought what?" she asked distractedly, as she swallowed one of the few remaining bites on her plate.

"Your robe. But then I figured it would be too weird to give it to you in public."

Rory realized she must have been right about the person outside her class that one day. It _had_ been Marty. And now his odd behavior started to make sense. "Yeah, I'm glad you didn't do that," she laughed. "How about you just drop it off sometime. You know where I live." Marty was giving her a sheepish look that told her he didn't. "Durfee, suite five," she said simply.

"Thanks. I washed it, by the way… by itself," he amended. "So it's not like it was in a load with my underwear or anything."

Rory reigned in her chuckle again, still wondering if he meant to be funny. "Good to know," she said as they stood up and threw away their trash. When they were outside, she said, "Well, even though my outfit was a huge hit at breakfast, I should probably change before class."

"Right. Well, I'll see you around."

"See ya, Marty."

After a couple steps, she heard him call out, "Oh, and, Rory?" She turned around and saw him walking backwards. "Nice haircut."

She smiled and waved as he continued on to class.

* * *

**AN**: For anyone else who had still been wondering what happened to Marty that night, you have MP to thank for that little bit. She wrote me a nice meaty review for chapter 3 in which she asked about that. So I figured something out and added it to the story. Hope you guys enjoyed it!


	7. Minor Meltdown

**AN**: Guten tag! Here's my slightly late addition to the story. Hope you like it! Thanks, as always, to my lovely beta, Jewels12, who is on her way to becoming an even more powerful Comma Goddess!

* * *

Rory plopped her recently cleaned – and even more recently dirtied – laundry onto her mom's ottoman. She explained her visit home by schooling her mom on the impatient and disrespectful laundry room habits of the average college student.

The mother-daughter reunion was briefly interrupted by a whirlwind visit from Lane. Something about okra, the internet, and a grim future. Rory didn't even get to say ten words to Lane before she ran back out the door. Normally Rory might have been disappointed by this, but with her massive amounts of work and laundry to do, she was secretly relieved to have one less distraction this time.

At this point, Rory was anxious to put her clothes into the washing machine, but gave in to her mother's request for a catch-up session. She started by sharing some details of the latest battles between Paris and Janet.

"This war is getting totally out of hand," Rory continued. "This morning Paris turned off my alarm because Janet woke her up. I almost missed breakfast. I ran down to the dining hall in my pajamas and bunny slippers, and of course I ran into Marty."

"Naked Guy."

"Mom," she said firmly.

"What? Why can't I call him Naked Guy? He was, after all, a naked guy."

"Because every time you say 'naked guy,' I picture him naked."

"And that's a bad thing," Lorelai said in a mock-serious tone.

"No, it's just – "

"Aha! So Naked Guy _is_ hot," Lorelai needled as they went into the kitchen and collected plates and shakers for the pizza.

"What?! No, Nake – Marty isn't _hot_, I just – "

"Awww, poor Naked Guy."

"Would you stop?! I never should have told you that story."

"Fine, fine. So you ran into NnnMarty," Lorelai corrected herself after seeing the warning look Rory was giving her. They settled back down onto the couch and dug in. "And this was embarrassing?"

"Yes. Well, no. I mean, it was at first, but he introduced me to his friends and everyone was cool about it. They teased me, but they weren't mean or anything."

"And these friends of his, are any of _them_ dateable?" Rory slumped back in her seat, her posture signalling her defeat. "What?" Lorelai asked.

"I'm not on the lookout for who is or isn't dateable, okay?" she explained in a weary tone. "I'm interested in making friends, not finding a date."

Lorelai stopped being silly and put her hand over her daughter's. "Honey, it's been five months. It's okay."

"This isn't about Jess!" Rory cried out in exasperation, pulling her hand away. "This is about adjusting to college life. This is about how I study _alone_ and walk to class _alone_, or sit in class _alone_. I take all my meals back to my room so that I don't feel alone, but really I am. Everyone is making friends, even Paris. Now I'm finally making some friends, some real friends – not just 'oh we live on the same floor' acquaintances – and all you can talk about is if I think I can score a date out of it."

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry. I really am," Lorelai said softly, hugging Rory to her side. "So you made some friends this morning."

"Yes, I did," said Rory, calming down from her outburst.

"Well, good. I'm happy for you, babe."

"Thanks." Rory paused tentatively, not sure if she should reopen the topic. But she needed her mom to know she meant what she said. "I really am over Jess, Mom."

"Okay."

"I mean, I know I didn't get any real closure, but I figure that one-sided phone call was better than most people get. I definitely don't want to get back together with him, but I'm not mad at him anymore, either. He's not a bad person; he was just messed up, so he… messed up. Yeah, it hurt, but I know it didn't have anything to do with me."

"So, you really are over it."

"Yeah."

"My baby's growing up," Lorelai said, pride and sadness reflected in her eyes as her daughter stood up to put a load in the wash.

* * *

Early the next morning, Rory found herself analyzing her past friendships as she drove back to campus. She and Lane had been a perfect match from such a young age. She didn't even remember the exact day she became friends with Lane – it just seemed that they were _always_ friends. But Rory wasn't able to maintain any friendships outside of Lane. Was it because she didn't like anyone else at Stars Hollow High, or because she assumed none of them liked her?

She didn't really _make_ any friends at Chilton, either. They just sort of fell into her lap. Her relationship with Paris had been all business before it somehow developed into friendship. Madeline and Louise were just incidental since they were friends with Paris. The one time she made a concerted effort to put herself out there, it ended in disaster and was the sole reason she didn't even consider joining a sorority at Yale.

So how was Yale any different than Stars Hollow High or Chilton? She had been content before, so why was this bothering her now? Sure, she saw Lane less, but it's not like they had suddenly dropped out of each other's lives. In retrospect, Chilton had been a good transition period for them – no longer seeing each other all day every day, but making time for each other here and there throughout the week. And with Paris, well, now she saw her more than ever. Less Lane and more Paris should even things out, right?

So why did she feel so friendless?

_Mom_.

From elementary school to high school to Chilton, her mom had always been there, anchoring her through each stage. Of course she still had her mom, but she didn't go home to her every night anymore, and this was the gaping friendship-hole she was feeling.

_That's why I never sought out friends before_, she realized.

Rory pursed her lips together, mustering up some determination.

_You can't be passive about this anymore. No more waiting for people to insert themselves into your life. You're going to have to invite people in. You're not shy, you've just been spoiled. But you're not in Stars Hollow anymore – Yale doesn't revolve around you. If you want friends, you're going to have to do something about it._

She knew from her experience with the Puffs that she wouldn't do anything as random as inserting herself into a group of strangers. But she decided that if she saw any of her new friends in the cafeteria or walking to class, she'd be comfortable joining them.

_And when Marty comes by, I can invite him in, introduce him to everyone. And then maybe later all four of them will hang out in our dorm._

Making plans like this felt silly, but that was to be expected since this was far from second nature to her. Eventually she found a parking place and shouldered her laundry bag back to her dorm. She set the bag down by her door and dug her keys out of her pocket. She had barely touched her key to the lock before the door swung open in front of her.

"Jeez!" yelped Rory, jumping back from her bright-eyed and clearly excited roommate.

"I thought it would be you!" the sixteen-year-old chirped. "Janet and Paris just left for class, so I didn't think it would be them. I've been waiting for you to come home. What did you do last night? Was it perfectly scandalous? I'm not allowed to do anything scandalous, but that doesn't mean I can't hear about it, right?"

Catching her breath and swinging her bag into the room, Rory asked, "Tana, what are you talking about?"

"You didn't come back last night and a _boy_ came by this morning to return your _clothes_. And there was a _note_." Rory looked down and saw her robe folded neatly on the coffee table with a scrap of paper on top of it that said: 'I owe you one.' Rory was a little disappointed she missed his visit, but ignored that to deal with the matter at hand: setting Tana's clearly wild imagination straight.

"Tana?"

"Yes?" she said excitedly.

"Am I wearing different clothes from yesterday?"

"Yes," she answered, a little bit of confusion seeping into her excitement.

"And did I just walk in with a big bag of laundry?"

"Yes." The decrease in her pitch showed she was starting to doubt her assumptions.

"So how likely is it that I spent a scandalous night in some boy's room?"

"Not very." Her chagrined expression indicated that she had an idea of where this was going.

"No. I went home to do laundry. I spent the night in my childhood bedroom, and trust me, nothing scandalous ever happens there."

"Oh," she said dolefully.

"Sorry to disappoint," Rory said, dragging her bag into her room. When she sat on her bed, she remembered her own disappointment. _Oh well_, she thought. _Maybe it would be better to start by inviting Julie over, anyway._


	8. Second Draft

**AN**: Prominent thanks, as always, to my beta, Jewels12. If it weren't for her, you guys would be reading a _lot _of awkward descriptions. Rory and Marty are supposed to be awkward, not my writing. And I'd also like to send out a thank you to the folks that reviewed the previous chapter and/or added this story to their alert list.

* * *

"Where's Rory?" Carl asked when Marty joined him at breakfast.

"Oh, I don't know. But one of her suitemates was in, so at least the robe business is taken care of."

"That's good. Wait – she wasn't there? There aren't any classes before 8:30, are there?" It was clear by Carl's tone that he was digusted, by both the thought that such a class could exist and the idea that anyone would sign up for it.

"I don't think so." Marty shrugged absently. "I think the girl said something about Rory not being home last night."

Carl gave an exaggerated gasp, and in a faux-shocked voice said, "On a school night?! What could possibly keep an eighteen year old girl out on a school night?"

Marty looked up and rolled his eyes at his roommate's wiggling eyebrows. "How should I know? I barely know her. Now how about we just drop this before you make an ass out of yourself… again."

Carl's face quickly dropped and he suddenly became very interested in his last bite of pancake. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Girls aren't always quite as _eager_ as you seem to hope they'd be. You're just lucky Julie has a good sense of humor," Marty teased.

"God, neither of you will let me live that down, will you?"

"Are you going to let me live down being the Naked Guy?"

"Not anymore," Carl shot back. "Wait a second. I'm done, so I don't have to sit here for this." He slapped his palms onto the table and propelled himself to his feet. "See ya later, _Naked Guy,_" he spat as he whisked off with his tray.

"Later, _Rudolph,_" Marty called after him.

After Carl left, Marty idly wondered where Rory had been. She wasn't flirty or slutty like some girls, so he doubted it was a random hook up like Carl suggested. Maybe a boyfriend, but he never noticed her with anyone, so Marty figured he'd have to be at another school.

Marty downed the rest of his OJ before throwing away his stuff and heading off to class.

When he arrived, Rory was already there. He gave a little wave, and they traded nods and cordial smiles. Marty hesitated for a long moment, scanning the room as he considered his options. If he went to sit in his old seat, would it look like he was avoiding her again? But going to sit with her might be a little forced. He could either undo a friendship that had just begun, or presume a friendship that didn't exist. Luckily, Marty's brain kicked in and he noticed that there weren't any seats near her anyway. He split the difference and took a seat across from his old one. Looking over, he gave her a 'See, I'm not hiding from you anymore' grin.

* * *

"What I really appreciated was the way Mitsuhashi thoroughly conveyed the complexity and depth of the culture in Japan's Muromachi period."

_Could this guy sound any more pretentious?_ Marty thought with a chuckle. "I kind of thought it was overdone, and almost unnecessary," he replied to his classmate.

"Unnecessary?" Rory interrupted incredulously. "The sense of honor, shame, and duty that are such a strong part of the culture are what directly led to Yoshiaki's suicide. How can you say that explaining that is unnecessary?"

Marty tried his best to address both Rory and the classmate she was jumping in to defend. "Because the point of the novel isn't that he committed suicide, but rather his internal conflict way before suicide even became a topic. That struggle is universal across all cultures. That pain is what led him to _want_ to kill himself."

"So you're saying this could have taken place in Canada, and we would have read the same story."

"Of course not, the names would have been different," Marty deadpanned. "But, yeah, Yoshiaki's internal journey would have been the same in Canada or Japan. The only part where the Japanese culture plays a role is in the resolution – his suicide."

"Exactly," she countered. "And we needed the deep understanding of the culture to know why he decided to commit suicide."

"I disagree. We only needed a basic understanding to know that over there, and back then, suicide was an acceptable outcome. Up until that point, couldn't you relate to what he was going through? Couldn't you identify with his regret for failing his family and his village? Did you need a history and sociology lesson before you could understand how important those connections were to him, and how it felt when they were severed?" For a moment, he thought Rory looked stunned into speechlessness, but figured she was just gathering her thoughts for her next remark. "Mitsuhashi did such a beautiful job of giving Yoshiaki a universal voice, that I thought the heavy handed cultural descriptions actually detracted from the novel." _Great, now **I'm** a pretentious douche._

"Okay, class, we need to leave time to discuss the upcoming in-class essay," their professor interrupted.

Marty worked to smother a smile. That was the first time he had really been in a one-on-one debate with Rory. He knew that in these class discussions there were no winners or losers, but he had seen plenty of people crumble when challenged by Ms. Gilmore, and he was pleased with himself that he had managed to hold his own.

When the professor dismissed the class, Marty gathered up his belongings and zipped up his bag. As he stood up and turned to the door, he heard Rory call out, "Marty, wait up!" He turned back and nodded, stepping to the table again to let his classmates by.

"What's up?" he asked when she caught up to him. "Can't let that debate go?" They fell into step together as they walked down the hall.

"Oh, no," she half laughed. "No, I, uh, I liked what you had to say back there."

"Oh, thanks," he said a little self-consciously. He hadn't been expecting a compliment.

"Yeah, and I was just thinking, you know how we need to turn in the second draft of our term paper in a few weeks?"

"Uh, yeah," he said, not sure where this was going.

Rory closed her eyes, and Marty caught the sudden, unexpected movement. "Well, I was... wondering," she began, her eyes reopening, "if you'd be interested in, um... trading papers. You know, critique each other so we can turn in a better second draft," she finished with a casual shrug.

"Oh, sure." He smiled. It seemed like a lot of effort for such a simple suggestion and he found it both confusing and endearing.

"Cool." Rory nodded a little awkwardly. She jostled her head as if something had just dawned on her. "Oh, right, I forgot. Thanks for dropping off my robe. Sorry I missed you."

"No big deal. Had to do it sometime. I just figured I'd come by before breakfast and see if you wanted to join Carl and me."

"Oh." Marty was surprised that she sounded kind of disappointed. "I would have, but I didn't come back from my Mom's until right before class. Maybe next time, though."

"Next time? You mean, the next time I drop off your robe?" he teased.

"I meant next time for _breakfast_," she said, rolling her eyes at him.

"Ahh," he said, pretending he only just now figured out what she was talking about. "Well, for the Breakfast Crew, that will be around ten tomorrow."

"I'll be there," she said, and he was pretty sure he caught her smiling to herself.

"Good. Hey, do you like coffee?"

She let out a slight chortle before sighing, "Oh, Marty, you have so much to learn." He raised one eyebrow at her, trying to clue her into the fact that she didn't actually answer the question. "That's a yes."

"Oookaaay. Well, do you have time to grab one? I found the best coffee on campus and I usually make a pit stop before or after my first class. Today happens to be after."

"I have time, but I already found the best coffee on campus, so I doubt I'll agree with your recommendation."

"You're that sure your selection is better than mine?" he challenged.

"Marty, if you saw the extensive sampling process that we went through, you would be just as sure as I am. I also had several test subjects. Can you say the same?"

"No," he said warily, wondering if she was being serious.

"I'm sure I'll like it just fine," she said with mock-condescension in her voice. "Just don't be disappointed when I don't gush over it." She must have been caught up in the debate because when they finally turned a corner by one of the libraries, she looked over to the coffee cart in surprise, and then back to him for confirmation that he was leading her there. "Well, I stand corrected."

"Excuse me?"

"My coffee _isn't _any better than yours," she said before she walked up to the vendor. "Hi, Tom. How's it going?"

"Good. Back for your second cup of the day already?"

"This is more of a social call, rather than a caffeine-withdrawal visit."

They each got their 'usuals', and then turned toward the academic buildings. Rory was telling him about a diner in her hometown that she was sure served the best coffee in all of Connecticut. Then they walked the next few steps in silence.

Just as he was starting to feel a little self-conscious, Marty heard her chuckle. "What?" he asked.

"I still can't get over how you had the audacity to say that the Japanese culture wasn't critical in a _Japanese fiction _course," she said, shaking her head in disbelief.

"Well, it made sense to me." He shrugged with a half smile. "By the way, I meant to ask you yesterday… why are you taking the class?"

"Well, I want to be a journalist, specifically a foreign correspondent. So I figure I should be well rounded in all kinds of cultures. What about you?"

"Kind of the same idea, but I want to be a writer."

"Planning on writing the great American novel?"

"You're mocking me," he said with a squint. "But that's the general idea, yes. America's such a mix of different cultures that I just figured I should learn about as many of them as possible before I try."

"Makes sense."

He looked up and saw they were approaching the building for his next class, but her body language suggested she was going to keep walking. "Well, this is me, so I'll catch you later. I'll give you my paper when it's a little further along."

"Me too. Later, Marty."


	9. Hitting the Right Notes

**AN**: Okee dokee, to the kiddies following along at home: You may have noticed that this chapter was a little later than usual. Well, to make it up to you, this is a doozy of an installment (compared to my others, not compared to other writers). In fact, it had previously been three different chapters until the lovely Jewels12 talked me into putting them together. So don't think of this as getting one chapter a week late, but getting two chapters a couple weeks early! And as always, thank you thank you thank you to Jewels12. Not only did she offset-watch Glee with me this week, but she also beta-ed this chapter right after completing her Virtual Season episode. She's a machine I tell you!

* * *

Leaning against her car outside the Gilmore estate, Rory was reading through Marty's paper while she waited for her mom to join her. She flipped another page and absently played with her lip while she read. Sometimes she scrutinized the material with a frown, but more often she gave it a respectful head bob.

"Wow, you are really engrossed."

"Whoa, you came out of nowhere!" she yelped at her mother's sudden appearance.

"No, I actually came out of that car, which has a door that has to be slammed closed, and which had to drive down this crunchy driveway. Seriously, what are you reading? Oh, can I see?" Lorelai asked when she had looked a little closer.

"Nope," Rory answered, flipping the pages around and folding it closed.

"Of course. What was I thinking? You never let me read your papers," Lorelai teased as they walked up to the front door.

"First of all, yes I do –"

"Only once you're 112% finished with them. Until then, you're like the freakin' CIA with the security clearances involved," her mother interrupted.

"– and second, it's not mine," she responded while Lorelai rang the doorbell.

"Awww, Paris overworking you for mid-terms?"

The door opened in front of them while Rory was trying to put the paper into her overstuffed purse. "Never mind, Cecilia. I managed to do your job for you," Emily called over her shoulder. "Hello, girls."

"New maid, Mom? I take it she's shaking your confidence daily."

"What on earth are you talking about?" Emily scoffed as she lead them into the sitting room. "I swear, the nonsense you come up with. Richard, the girls are here, though it appears Rory has some work to deal with," she concluded a tad tersely.

"Oh, no, it's nothing like that. It's just idle reading material. Mom and I didn't drive in together. I only brought it in case I was waiting in here by myself," Rory half lied as she took a seat on the sofa. She didn't want to hurt her grandmother's feelings by letting on that she chose to wait outside.

"Rory, I'm used to seeing you with a book or, more rarely, a magazine for idle reading. What's today's selection?" her grandfather asked conversationally.

"It's just a friend's paper."

"You guys remember Paris, right?" Lorelai chimed in.

"Of course we do," Emily said pleasantly. "How is she doing?"

"Fine, but it's not Paris' paper," Rory corrected. "It's for a guy in my Japanese Fiction class."

"Rory, you aren't doing this boy's homework, are you?"

"Of course not, Grandma. I'm just peer editing it before our next draft is due."

"It still sounds like you're doing his work for him," Emily maintained.

"No more than he's doing for me." Rory flinched at the speed with which Lorelai snapped her head to attention. As Rory continued to ramble self-consciously, the look in Lorelai's eyes only grew wilder. "It's just a symbiotic, back scratching, quid pro quo sort of favor, that's all." The knowing smile Lorelai was flashing her was starting to give Rory the creeps.

"Well, that's very nice," Richard said approvingly before dismissing the topic and asking about the Yale paper.

During cocktails and dinner, Lorelai was even more hyper than usual. At one point, she insisted on humming loudly and drumming on her plate with her utensils.

"Lorelai, really. Must you make that racket?"

"It's not 'racket', Mom. It's a song."

"No song I've ever heard of," Emily said with a sniff.

"Rory's heard of it. Haven't you, Rory?" Lorelai asked with a wide grin.

She scowled at her mom, still trying to figure out what had gotten into her. Of course she knew the K-I-S-S-I-N-G song, but didn't see why her mother was momentarily obsessed with it.

"It doesn't matter if Rory has heard of it. We already have lovely music playing, so that's enough," Emily insisted.

"Well, I thought my music was _love_ly, too," Lorelai said pointedly toward Rory.

The bickering over her mother's antics made the evening feel like it was lasting forever, but eventually they were all saying their goodbyes and talking about how they would see each other next week.

As soon as the door closed behind them, Lorelai physically and verbally pounced. "So, who's the guy?" she asked, grabbing Rory's arm.

"What?"

"Who's the guy?!"

"What guy?"

"The guy with the paper, and _your _paper. The guy!"

"Marty?"

Lorelai gasped dramatically. "So you _do_ like Marty!"

"What are you talking about? We're just peer editing each other's papers."

"_Just_ peer editing? Rory, you never let a peer edit your paper."

"Well... I didn't want to be like that anymore. I didn't want to keep isolating myself. So a couple weeks ago, I decided to reach out and suggest the swap."

"Whoa, _you _asked _him_?" Lorelai asked, her surprise rising exponentially.

"Yes, and for what it's worth, it was really hard for me," came Rory's guarded answer.

"I bet. Wow. So what did Naked Guy do to win over your academic heart?" Lorelai slipped her arm into Rory's and walked her to her car.

"My what?" she laughed. "He didn't do anything to win me over."

"He must have made some sort of impression on you."

"Well, yeah, but it doesn't mean anything. I just like the arguments he makes in class. I mean, I don't always agree with him, but I like how he presents his side. I don't think he knows it, but he actually out-debated me one time. It's funny, when you're just chatting with him or watching him take notes, he seems sort of clueless. But when he's talking about course work, he really knows his stuff."

"Wait, you watch him take notes?"

"I don't mean 'watching him' like I'm examining him. I've just seen him take notes when we're studying, that's all."

"Riiight." Lorelai said skeptically.

"Mom."

"What?"

"Stop making more out of this than there is."

"Whatever you say. Have a safe drive, hon."

"You too, Mom."

* * *

Carl was still asleep when Marty returned after brushing his teeth and putting in his contacts. Out of courtesy, he did his best not to slam drawers or doors as he dressed himself.

Poking around in the mini-fridge for something to eat, Marty saw the bag of food he had saved from work last night. He had tried taking it to Rory's yesterday, but she had stayed out with her family later than usual. He wouldn't call it breakfast food, but it could pass for brunch. He grabbed the bag and gathered his books into his backpack. Before heading out, he poked Carl.

"Mmmph."

"I'm going to see if Rory's home. Will I see you there or at the library?"

"Mmm hmmm."

"That… wasn't a yes or no question."

"Library."

"Sounds good. Later."

On his way downstairs, Marty considered how much he liked the routine he and his friends had established. He realized he was being a dork, but he liked how he knew when he'd see which friends for breakfast and lunch, that they'd always gather somewhere on Saturday afternoons to study, and that Rory would eat just about anything no matter when he brought it by.

Marty knocked on the door to suite five and waited for one of the girls to answer it.

"Hey, Tana."

"Hi, Marty. Rory's here, she's just not _here_," explained the suitemate as she closed the door behind him. She took a seat on one of the chairs and resumed watching TV.

He sat down on the couch and offered Tana some of the leftovers. She looked in the bag, crinkled her nose, and shook her head just as Rory was exiting the bathroom.

"Pass? How can you pass on free food?" Rory asked in disbelief. She greeted Marty and thanked him while she served herself a plate of food to warm up.

"So, I see you had an early start this morning," he said, commenting on the laptop, books, and various sheets of paper that were strewn about the coffee table.

"Correction: _Paris _had an early start this morning. She kicked me out of our room so she wouldn't have any interruptions, and I just figured that instead of arguing with her, I'd make the best of the situation. Of course it meant that I had to…" she trailed off and swept her arm around the room.

"Move all of the contents of your desk – minus the desk itself – out here?" he finished for her.

"Yes. So, what's the rest of the crew up to today?" she asked as she walked back from the microwave. She handed Marty his plate then set hers down on the coffee table before taking a seat on the other end of the sofa.

"Well, Carl isn't 'up to' anything yet, but he said he'd be going to the library later. I figured we'd head over there after we ate."

"Sounds good," Rory said as she picked up her laptop and stretched out her legs, resting her feet against Marty's thigh. "I should be done with this assignment by then," she estimated, opening the laptop and snagging bites from her plate as she returned to her work.

"I brought this for you, too," he said, pulling her paper out of his bag.

"Oh, thanks," she said when he passed it to her. She made a move to open it, but then pulled her hand away and deliberately set the paper on the table behind her. "I don't have yours ready yet."

"No worries," he said as he took a book from his bag.

"I did read it, by the way. And I like it. I just haven't written down my comments yet. I plan on doing that tonight."

"That's fine."

"I think my favorite part is when you point out how Yoshiaki uses silence to his advantage. I don't think I consciously picked up on that before, but you're right. In so many of his tense situations, he doesn't say a word, and somehow it gives him this commanding presence, this power over the scene." Marty smiled to himself as she talked and typed. She hadn't really complimented him, but somehow it felt like she did. "I went back and read parts of the novel, and in some cases it's hard to tell if he really is that confident, or if he's actually panicking on the inside."

"I think it's a little of both. A transition from fake confidence to actual confidence."

"Hmm," Rory replied thoughtfully.

"Sure you don't want any?" Marty offered Tana one last time, before settling in for some reading.

* * *

"You'd have to carry around three different binders just to survive a day of classes, Rory. Maybe even five if you're planning on studying later. Forget how heavy that would be by the end of the semester, how do you even fit them all in your bag?" Steve challenged.

The crew had spent the majority of the afternoon at the library, but after the conversation degenerated into a debate on note organization, they knew they had lost their attention spans. They continued the discussion as they started to pack up their belongings.

"That's not how it works," Rory said, defending her position. "Yeah you have five big binders, one for each class, but you have one small binder with five dividers. You only have to take the small binder to class with you to take notes. You can move new notes to your big binders whenever you want. I like to keep some of my recent Calc stuff on me to help me work through the latest problem set, but I usually move my Japanese Fiction stuff over more often. I only carry around my big binders if I'm going through everything to prepare for a mid-term or something, when it's really handy to have my notes, past tests, homework sets, papers, handouts, and anything else all in one place."

"Still not buying it," Julie chimed in. "Spiral notebooks are way better. Look at how you're constantly rearranging sheets of paper from one binder to another. When it comes to mixing up the papers or losing a batch of them, if you aren't an organizational perfectionist, you're just asking for trouble."

"But see, that's the thing. Going with loose leaf can actually be better if you aren't an organizational perfectionist. Look, take Marty for example." Rory gestured to her exhibit A.

"Hey!" Marty said indignantly.

Carl put his hand on Marty's shoulder as he gave him a reality check. "Dude, you know it's true."

"Yeah," he said, chagrined.

"When Marty forgets to bring the right notebook to class, what does he do?" Rory posed.

"I tear out a page from the one I have and take notes on that."

"And then…" Rory said leadingly.

"I copy them into the right notebook."

"Unless…"

Marty rolled his eyes, exasperated with the example she was making of him. "Unless I don't have time to, in which case I just sort of shove them between the pages of the right notebook."

"Thank you. See, Julie, he's actually _more_ likely to put notes in the wrong order or lose pages. And even if he doesn't, then he's wasting time writing his notes twice. He wouldn't have these problems if he used loose leaf. Plus, what do you do if you don't use all the paper in the notebook? You can't transfer it to another one, but with loose leaf you have all kinds of flexibility."

"Hunh. Well, if you haven't won Marty over, you've swung my vote," Carl said. "Julie?"

"Nope. I take the right notebooks to class, so I'm all set, thanks."

"Fine," Carl said, turning to Steve. "What about you? Has Rory made you see the light, or are you going stick to the ancient methods of Drooly Julie here?"

Before Steve could even answer, Julie interjected, "Oh I see how it is, _Rudolph_," she said pointedly when they walked out of the building.

"Rudolph?" Rory asked. Marty's eyes twinkled as he flashed his 'this is going to be good' grin.

"Cut it out, Julie," Carl said gruffly, trying to drop the subject by walking a little faster.

"Excuse me? If you're going to insult me, then I'm going to give it right back." Turning to Rory, Julie began to explain, "This all goes back to when I met Carl. The first thing he said to me was a really lame pick up line."

Carl doubled back, his face red with either embarrassment or anger. "You can't start the story with that. I didn't come on to you out of nowhere. During this one class I caught her looking at me, and _smiling_ a few times. And then she _licked_ her _finger_ at me."

"Yes, and it had nothing to do with the red smudge you had on your nose. He's leaving out the part where I pointedly rubbed my nose with that finger. Everyone in class is silently laughing at him. I try to be nice and help him out, and he decides to hit on me."

Rory's head was turning side to side as if she were watching a tennis match.

"I say again: you _licked_ your _finger_ at me. Do you have any idea what that does to a guy?"

"I do now! He swaggers over to me after class –"

"I didn't sw – that's it. I'm leaving," Carl huffed as he stormed off in embarrassment.

"– and says, 'Should we release all this tension now, or let it build a little more?'" Julie finished in her best impression of a male voice.

"No," Rory said incredulously. "What did you do?"

"I said, 'Try me around Christmas, Rudolph,' pressed my finger to his nose, and walked off. I assume he checked his nose later and figured it out. Next class, he apologized. And luckily for him I'm a good sport, so I didn't have a problem becoming friends. I usually don't bring it up, but when he starts annoying me like that, I feel like I have to put him in his place."

Steve looked up and saw they were approaching Durfee. "We'll see you later," he said as Marty and Rory broke off, and he and Julie continued on their way.

"I'll catch you later, then," Rory said when she reached her door. "And I still plan on marking up your paper tonight – assuming I finish this problem set."

"You're going to keep working?"

"May as well, right?" She shrugged. "Goodnight."

"'Night," he said as she went into her suite.

* * *

Rory woke up Sunday morning, feeling refreshed and energized. She had spent Saturday night finishing up her course work and also fit in time to go over Marty's paper again – this time making notes in the margins. So her Sunday was wide open. She was free to spend time with Faulkner and clean up some of her article submissions at her leisure. As she twisted up her hair and washed her face, she decided she'd first drop off Marty's paper.

She finished getting ready, grabbed her keys, and headed out with just her book and his paper. She walked down his empty hall, pleased with herself that her forethought had paid off. None of the meatheads were awake at this hour on a Sunday, and she didn't miss the fuss they make over a girl in their hall one bit.

Her knock on his door was met with the sound of a chair scraping on the floor.

"Hi, Carl," she greeted when the door opened.

"Hey, Rory. Marty's not in. He's already out somewhere."

"Oh, I'll just leave this for him, then," she said, handing over the paper. "Hey, did you want to grab some breakfast with me?"

"Just finishing mine," he said, lifting his soda can and sloshing around what was left. "Sorry."

"That's fine. See you later."

"Later."

On her way to the coffee cart, she considered her options for where to read. There was, of course, the library, but she preferred to keep that just a study space. She felt too restless to be cooped up inside, anyway. Lounging in the grass against a tree would be nice, but she looked at the lawn as she walked by and saw that it was still dewy. Then she remembered the little garden by the fine arts building with the really comfy benches.

_Perfect._

She tucked her book under her arm as she munched on her Danish and sipped her coffee on the way to the garden, breathing in the musty autumn air. As she finished her breakfast, she noticed music playing, but that was pretty common in this part of campus. It wasn't until she moved closer that she realized it was coming from the garden. Someone was playing a guitar and singing. She hesitated, feeling like she'd be intruding if she went in and sat down.

_It's not like he can call dibs on a whole garden. And he sounds pretty good, so I don't think it will distract me from my reading._

There was a lull before the singer started up a new song. With a deep breath, she clutched her book to her chest and resumed walking toward one of the benches. When the person came into view, she froze in surprise.

_Marty?_

She gawked at him shamelessly, unaware of herself as she listened to him sing.

If you're a fool, you'll think you can create it.  
You'll have rules, follow steps to try and make it.

His forehead was slightly pinched, as if pained by some past regret.

You'll wish you could control it, try to be in command.  
And you'll blame yourself when things don't go as planned.

Here, he relaxed a bit, but tilted his head to the side like he was regarding something cautiously.

If you're lucky, you'll see it when it's there.  
In a look that shows that you both care.  
In a friendship you're sure will slowly grow.

He had been concentrating on his fingering, but now he looked up and saw her. He smiled easily at her as he finished the last line of the verse, the warm look in his eyes causing her to feel some sort of surge course through her body.

In a sigh that says that you both know.

"Hey," he said as his previous chord and warm look faded away.

She gave her head a subtle shake to wake herself from her reverie. "Hey, sorry. I didn't mean to interrupt."

"No problem."

"I didn't know you were a musician," she said as she walked over to him.

"Oh, I'm not. It's just a pastime. What do you have there?"

"Just some recreational reading," she said, holding up the book so he could see the title.

"No studying this morning?" he asked in faux-shock as he scooted over and motioned with his head for her to sit next to him.

"Nope. All that work I did yesterday was so I could just relax today," she answered as she took a seat. She leaned against the curved arm that fit her back so nicely, and put her feet on the bench next to Marty. "By the way, I dropped your paper off with Carl."

"Thanks. It won't bother you if I keep playing, will it?"

"Oh, no, go for it."

He started playing a different song, and after a little while, Rory snuck a peek at him over her book. She quickly looked back down and pinched back her smile. She had caught him silently mouthing the words to the song and found this gesture charming in some way.

From time to time she'd glance over at him, lingering if it seemed safe. She was drawn to the small adjustments his face made or the way he would close his eyes sometimes. It was like he was internalizing the music, and it captivated her to the point that her bookmark fell out of her novel more often than usual. Between his class discussions, his writing, and now his music, Rory felt like she was finally seeing the real Marty.

Shaking her head, she softly laughed at herself.

_This is Marty we're talking about, the awkward guy with his goofy deadpan sense of humor. Who knew he had this in him?_

Her mom had been right. He _was_ having some sort of an effect on her.


	10. Revisions

**AN**: Yay! Jewels12 and I actually got to SIMUL-watch Glee tonight! *Dances* Thanks for that, and also for being a kick ass beta, Jewels! I'd also like to send out a 'thank you' to the readers at home. I hope you're still enjoying the story! On with the show!

* * *

_Am I falling for Marty?_

_Don't be ridiculous; it's just a silly crush. You'll get over it._

_But what if it's not a crush? Maybe I should ask him out._

_Like you'd ask a guy out. When have you ever made the first move?_

_Just because I haven't, doesn't mean I can't._

_What makes you so sure he's even interested in you? Do you have any idea how awkward things will be if you go up to him with, "Wanna be my boyfriend?" and he says, "Um, pass"?_

_Well, I obviously wouldn't do it like that._

_Oh, really? Then how would you do it?_

_I don't know, but not like that!_

It was irritating how much one half of her psyche sounded like Paris. Rory shoved her chair away from the news desk she was using, and the screech her chair made sent a wave of gasps and groans around the room. She ducked her head away from the disapproving glares and tried to concentrate on the article she was working on. It was of one of her other rejected articles, and she was hoping this rewrite would go better than the last.

"If you're impatient for your next assignment, there are better ways of bringing it to my attention," Doyle said while he passed behind her and sat down on the corner of the desk.

"Oh, no, that wasn't –"

"You _will_ remember our prior discussion when you write this one, won't you?" he interrupted as he handed her a folder.

"Yes, of course." She opened up the folder and saw a flyer for a ballet recital and two tickets.

"They always give us the tickets for free, so don't worry if you don't end up using the second one." Doyle hopped off the desk and called over his shoulder as he walked away, "Five hundred words. Monday."

As she read over the flyer, her eyes drifted over to the two tickets.

_This could work._

She glanced at her watch. It was about time for lunch, anyway. As she packed up her belongings, she mulled over how she might bring it up. When she arrived at the cafeteria, Marty was already sliding an empty tray along the counter. She picked up a tray and sidled up next to him.

"So, what looks good today?"

"Oh, hey, Rory. I'm thinking about the barbeque chicken pizza, but there's also three cheese macaroni."

"Mmm, I know what I'm getting," she sing-songed.

"So, how are things at the paper?" he asked, sneaking a cautious peek at her.

"I know I was bummed before, but you don't need to walk on eggshells, Marty. I _was_ working on that other rewrite, but I was actually given a new assignment."

"That's good."

"Yeah, and hopefully this one will be published. It's a dance recital that one of the student companies is having this Saturday. They actually gave me two tickets for it, so if you wanted to come and keep me company I wouldn't complain. Although, it's ballet, so maybe that's not your thing." She casually picked up an apple to make it seem like it didn't matter how he responded.

_But it does matter. If he says no, I'll know he isn't interested. If he says yes… well, that doesn't mean he's definitely interested, but at least I'll know he isn't completely squicked out by doing something remotely date-like together._

"No…" he said, and Rory's heart sank a little, but she couldn't say she was really surprised. "… ballet's okay." She hoped he didn't notice the smile she was biting back as she pretended to check the apple for bruises. "When on Saturday is it?"

"Oh, um, it's at… let me see…" she flustered. _Calm down_, she scolded herself. She forced her hands to slow down as she opened her bag and pulled out the file. "It's at three."

"Yeah, that should be fine. I mean, it won't last more than two hours, will it? I have work at six."

"I can't imagine it would. So does that mean you'll be there?"

"Yeah, I'll be there."

"Cool," she said as they walked over to the checkout line. Standing behind him, she allowed herself a small smile.

* * *

For a split second, it sounded like Rory had asked him out on a date. He looked over and saw her poking around a basket of apples. Before he could wonder when she started eating fruit voluntarily, he shook his head at himself.

_Don't be ridiculous. Rory's just asking you to hang out like usual. Just instead of being in her dorm, you'll be at a show. She'll be scribbling down notes the whole time. It's definitely not a date._

"No, ballet's okay." He mentioned his bartending job to make sure there wasn't a conflict before agreeing to join her.

They found Steve already at a table and joined him. Marty wondered if he would ask what their plans were that weekend and if it would be weird if they said they were going to a recital together.

_Is this weird? It doesn't feel weird. I mean, she asked me. If she were worried about it seeming like a date she wouldn't have asked, right? So if she's comfortable with it there's no reason I shouldn't be, right? But why didn't she ask someone like Paris or Julie?_

"So, what do you think?" Steve asked.

"Sorry, what were you saying?" Marty snapped himself back to attention, hoping he hadn't been staring at Rory subconsciously.

"C'mon, pay attention. I'm trying to help you out here. Friday, as in tomorrow, bartending my lab partner's party. Are. you. in?" he enunciated.

"Yeah, I'm in."

* * *

After lunch, Rory flopped down on her bed in frustration. She was proud of herself for gathering the nerve to test the waters, and she received the results she had wanted: she had managed to ask Marty in a way that didn't risk their friendship, and he said yes. Trouble was, now that she knew he wouldn't reject her outright, she wished she'd asked him out as an actual date.

_Get over it, Gilmore. You did exactly what you wanted, and you got exactly what you wanted, so quit pouting. You'll just have to wait until next time to make it a real date._

She wondered how sure she was that there would even be a next time. She closed her eyes and pictured how this Saturday would play out. They'd probably meet at the theatre, exchange normal, friendly banter while she took notes, and make study plans as they walked out. Everything would be completely platonic as usual, only in a date-like setting. But that would set the precedent for how they should behave for any future date-like situations. She'd be locking herself into the 'friend zone' (or worse, 'sibling zone') forever.

Quickly, she rolled off her stomach and swung her legs off the bed, looking for her shoes.

_I have to fix this._

She bolted out of her dorm, not allowing herself time to chicken out. Before she knew it, she was knocking on Marty's door, amazed at how quickly she had arrived there.

"Please don't let Carl be in, please don't let…" she mumbled over and over as she tried to catch her breath.

"Rory, hey."

She smiled, relieved that Marty answered the door and that, unless he was hiding somewhere, Carl was out. "Marty, can I come in? I haven't been completely honest with you about this recital."

"It _is_ more than two hours, isn't it?" he groaned as he closed the door behind her.

"No, no, that's not it." She turned around, but now that she was here with him she couldn't bring herself to follow through. _Tell him! Tell him you asked him out as a casual friend thing because you were scared. Tell him you'd like it to be a date._

"Rory?" he asked expectantly.

She looked at him from across the room. Somehow, she had ended up leaning against the front of Carl's desk. She dropped her eyes to the floor, unable to just say what she was thinking. It would give him a chance to say he wasn't interested. But he had to be, at least a little bit, to accept even a casual date, right? She wanted to convince that little bit of interest, and hoped it would be enough to win over the rest of him.

Emboldened, she lifted her head and locked her eyes on his. She stepped away from Carl's desk and brought one hand up to her chest. Holding his gaze, she unbuttoned her top button and took another small step towards him.

"Rory? What are you doing?"

"What do you think I'm doing?" she asked, sliding a second button free and taking another step.

"Rory, cut it out. This isn't funny," he said, slightly backing up toward his desk.

"I'm not trying to be funny," she said, and there went the third button. When he bumped up against his desk, he simply leaned on it, apparently giving in to her advances. She could feel her heart racing faster in anticipation as she moved closer to him.

"Rory…"

"Yes, Marty?" she asked innocently, opening a much less innocent button and closing the gap between them a little more. The V of her shirt now plunged all the way down to her bellybutton.

"So, you're actually…"

"Taking my shirt off in front of you?" she finished for him. She unfastened another button and could feel that the next one was the last.

He opened his mouth to speak, but closed it again and just nodded mutely.

"Yes, Marty," she said as the last button popped under her fingers. "I am."

Rory brought her hands up to her collar and parted her shirt so that the narrow strip of visible skin spread before him. She shrugged the fabric off her shoulders and let it slip to the floor. Her fingers moved to the clasp at the center of her chest and she saw his eyes widen. She beamed at him, charmed by his shock. Most guys would be impatiently anticipating the bra removal, she guessed, but it seemed Marty was so busy admiring her shirtless figure that wanting more hadn't occurred to him.

Her bra made a quiet click as the clasp separated. Slowly, she uncovered her breasts and let the bra slide off her shoulders, along her arms, and down to the ground. Rory took the last step between them and leaned her body against his, resting her hands on his biceps. Marty's hands lightly graze the skin at her waist before they trailed up her sides and brushed past the outer curves of her breasts. She writhed against him slightly, not just from the tickling sensations but also from how much he was turning her on.

Rory lifted her chin so that her lips hovered in front of his. "Do you still want me to cut it out?" she whispered.

"Oh, God, no," he murmured.

She went up on her tiptoes and let her eyelids drop as she leaned in for a kiss. She kept leaning further and further forward, confused that she hadn't reached his lips yet. They had been right in front of hers a second ago.

_Is he pulling away from me?_

She opened her eyes to check and wondered why she was lying on her stomach, staring at her rug. Exhaling as if she had been holding her breath, she examined herself and saw she was fully clothed. As the details of her dream came back to her, she moved her head from the edge of the bed to her pillow and tucked a hand between her chest and the bed to calm her racing heart.

_What the hell? Where did THAT come from? I would never do that. Does it mean anything that I dreamt it? Do I actually want him like that? And does he want me? No, it WAS just a dream. I'm just a little interested in him, that's all._

She rolled over onto her back, and as her legs scissored a bit in the transition, she noticed she felt a little slippery. She closed her eyes and cast up a silent prayer that she had been mistaken before sliding a hand into her panties to touch herself. Her aroused flesh was swollen and slick, and when she brought her hand back out she saw her finger was glistening.

_Whoa, maybe more than just 'a little.' But I'm not all hot and bothered for Marty, am I?_

She shut her eyes as she tried to shut out that possibility. Yes, she wondered if she might be falling for Marty, but when she thought about it, she pictured hand-holding and sweet, romantic kisses. Not… _that_.

_It was just because of the dream. God, that was a good dream. His mouth was right there. What if we had been able to kiss?_

As she imagined his tongue slipping past hers, she felt the muscles inside her flex.

_She whispered in his ear, "Touch me, Marty." He slid his hands down her skirt, and when they reached her hem, they slid back up her thighs. He hooked a finger on each side of her panties and slowly pushed them lower until they fell away from him. As she stepped out of them, he took a seat in his desk chair._

When she pictured herself straddling him and sitting in his lap, she undid the button and zipper on her jeans and separated her legs more. She took a quick peek at the clock and noted there was more than enough time before Paris came home.

_She kissed Marty again and felt his hands slide up her calves and over her knees before disappearing under her skirt again. He squeezed her legs, thumbs pressing into her inner thighs before turning one hand underneath her._

As she cupped herself, she imagined it was his hand, and when she bent one finger to touch her wetness again, she pretended it was his.

_"Li__ke this?" he whispered in her ear._

_"Y__esssss," she hissed as the breath she had been holding in anticipation rushed from her. He stroked her slowly, massaging her lips and circling her swollen bud._

She pictured him kissing across her jawline and down her neck.

_Bringing his free hand to her back, he guided her to lean away from him slightly._

As she envisioned his mouth moving closer, she snaked her own hand up her shirt and under her bra. She traced a finger around her erect nipple, simulating his tongue.

_Every once in a while, his finger dipped into her, and while he still moved slowly, his strokes had intensified in strength._

_Her fingers were kneading his curly hair when his mouth closed over her nipple. She arched her back, shifting more weight to the hand behind her and pressing her breast to him, urging him to suck harder._

"Mmmmm," she moaned quietly in spite of herself as she pinched and pulled at her nipple.

_Her hips had started rocking against his fingers insistently, so he picked up the pace. He slid his finger from her bud, down between her lips, deep inside her folds, and back up again, over and over. He pressed any part of his finger or palm against her when he did this, letting her grind against him as he moved in and out of her. When he heard her moans rise higher and higher in pitch, he kept his finger at her tiny bundle of nerves, circling faster and faster and applying just the right amount of pressure._

The tension escalating inside her showed on her face. When she finally broke, her body convulsed into a crunch, and she let out a low grunt to avoid crying out and attracting the attention of her suitemates. She relaxed into her pillow again and let her finger just lay between her lips. She could feel them contract against her finger every so often as her orgasm trickled away from her.

When she opened her eyes and looked up at her ceiling, reality came crashing down on her again. She buttoned up her pants and sat up on the edge of her bed.

_How am I going to be normal around him when I just got off on him? Well, not really on Marty__, just 'D__ream__Marty'._

She didn't want to admit, even to herself, that she might have such strong urges for someone who was just a friend.

* * *

**AN**: All right, there it was, folks. The first chapter I was REALLY nervous about. This is the one I'd most appreciate reading reviews for so I know how to improve other smutty chapters I've written.


	11. The Review

**AN**: This is the same ballet we see on the show, but in this version Rory does not take Lorelai. Thanks for all the feedback on my previous chapter! Hope you guys hang in there for more like it ;) And thank you to Jewels12 for saving me from all kinds of repetitive redundancies. This chapter features her second accidental shout out - hee! Is there a psychic aptitude test out there? Anyways, on with the show, my pretties!

* * *

Knowing she'd want to have time to settle and organize herself before the show, Marty decided to arrive at the theatre early. He was mildly surprised that he had still managed to beat her there. He wandered around the lobby to see if he overlooked her and lingered for a few minutes in case she was in the bathroom. When he felt sure she wasn't there, he decided to wait for her outside.

He couldn't say it was strange that he had beaten Rory there. That alone wouldn't have caught his attention. But when added to the other weird occurrences from the past few days, Marty had a hard time ignoring the possibility that she was avoiding him.

On Thursday nights, he usually ended up studying with her in the library. It wasn't anything planned. He had just gone there to study one week and saw her there, and she had invited him to join her. Ever since then, they both sort of just showed up. It was one of the few times they studied without the rest of the crew, and he preferred it. There was too much distracting chatter when everyone was together. When he studied with Rory, it was quieter and he completed more work, but it wasn't lonely. And every week since then, she had been there. Until this one. It had surprised him a little at the time, but it wasn't like it meant anything.

And he forgot about it completely on Friday morning. She was there at breakfast with Carl just like always. They walked to class together, chatting like always, and sat together – you guessed it – just like always. It wasn't until later that night that he thought about Thursday again.

On his way home from the bartending gig, he was beat from a long day and figured he could do with a little unwinding. Rory often enjoyed a little pick-me-up of catering leftovers and a movie after a night with her family. So he swung through the student center to check out a DVD, and visited the store for some Milk Duds to sweeten the deal.

Being turned away at the door and walking back up to his room wasn't too strange. Some nights there had been too much family drama, and she just didn't feel like company. Other nights, a roommate let him know she just hadn't returned home yet. But that night, Paris told him she was staying over at her Mom's. The last time Marty remembered her staying over was the morning he returned her robe. It wasn't odd, really. But considering that she hadn't done so in so long, and considering Thursday, Marty started to wonder if something was off.

This morning, he hadn't even bothered to swing by her room for some pre-crew studying. He thought it was possible she would be back by then, but he didn't want to risk having Paris give him a weird look and unsympathetically remind him where Rory was. She was there at Steve's for the afternoon study session, so once again Marty brushed his worries aside and assumed he was just imagining things, even when she excused herself around two o'clock.

But here, standing in front of the theatre at five to three, he started wondering about her strange behavior again. It had occurred to him that he was the one being weird, noticing these little blips and thinking they meant something. How could he say she was avoiding him when he saw her multiple times these past couple days? But not arriving super early to a work assignment? Marty shook his head in confusion.

"Hey, sorry I'm late." She appeared at his side, slightly breathless and wearing an easy smile. She looked embarrassed, and for a moment Marty wondered if she was uncomfortable about something, but he concluded that she probably just felt bad that she kept him waiting.

"No problem. It's your assignment, not mine." He shrugged.

"Right. Well, shall we?" she said formally.

"We shall," he said automatically. He couldn't call it a joke. It was just a silly little exchange they often had, but it wasn't until now that he felt grateful to have it. It was another bean he could put on the 'everything's fine and normal' side of the scale.

Inside, she handed over their tickets. He was following her through the aisles of the theatre when he noticed she was brazenly taking someone else's seats.

"Rory, what are you doing?"

"What do you th– " Rory trailed off with a bug-eyed expression. Marty scrunched up his forehead, wondering what that was, especially when she smiled self-consciously and picked a new sentence. "I'm taking a seat," she said, doing just that. She was acting like she had almost let some secret slip during that innocent exchange.

"Yeah, but these ones say 'Reserved'," he said, feeling like he towered over her while he refused to sit.

She let out a soft chuckle and gave him a real smile. "Don't be silly. They're reserved for us. One of the advantages of being with the press."

"Oh, right." As he sat down, he was too preoccupied with feeling stupid to think about Rory's strange reaction from earlier.

"Hey, before I forget: thanks for coming."

He assumed she was just being her typical polite self, but when he turned to her and saw how sincere she looked, he wasn't quite sure how to respond. "Yeah, sure. Who knows, maybe you'll turn me into a ballet fanatic."

"Yes, there is always that chance," she said wryly. They both glanced up when the house lights started to come down, which she acknowledged with mock enthusiasm. "Here we go." Before the curtain went up, she leaned toward him and whispered, "I wish they sold popcorn or candy at these shows."

As she settled back into her seat again, Marty discretely reached into his folded jacket and pulled out the box of Milk Duds. He leaned over to whisper, "Like this?" in her ear.

She flinched and whipped her head up as she half gasped, "What?!?" Rory was looking at him like he had said something highly offensive.

He pulled away, startled by her shocked expression. "Candy," he said lamely. "You just said…"

"Right, no, I'm sorry. Yeah, candy would be great, thank you." She smiled sheepishly as he tipped some into her hand.

She had been flip-flopping between acting normally and being weird, and it was starting to agitate him. "Are you okay?" he asked in exasperation.

"Yeah, don't mind me. Just suffering from some serious déjà vu . I'm probably just nervous about writing a publishable article."

Marty nodded silently and turned back to the stage as the two dancers made their entrance. He was pretty sure that wasn't just it, but now wasn't the best time to call her out on it.

"Oh," Rory said reflexively when the ballerina leapt and stumbled in her landing.

"Maybe no one noticed," he whispered hopefully.

"Maybe… Whoa," she gasped, along with several other people, going by the low rumble he heard from the audience around them.

"Okay, they noticed that one."

"I think I might have to start a slip and fall tally."

"Maybe something's wrong with the floor. Did he just wince?"

"It sure looked like it."

"Hrrrrmmm!" Marty tried to stifle his groan as he reflexively lifted one knee and hunched over protectively.

"You all set there?" she asked, trying not to giggle at him.

"Sympathy pains," he croaked. "I'll be okay in a sec."

Some people nearby shushed them, but Rory only lasted fifteen seconds before she asked him, "Do you want to go?"

"Are you kidding? This is the most entertaining ballet I've ever been to," he said, grinning from ear to ear and popping a Milk Dud into his mouth.

* * *

As other people stood up and gathered their personal effects, Rory and Marty sat in stunned silence, still staring at the stage curtain.

"Wow," he said.

"Yeah."

"That was…"

"Terrible," she finished for him.

"It wasn't terrible," he lightly admonished her.

"I'm in physical discomfort."

"_You're_ in physical discomfort?!"

"Oh right, sorry," she laughed.

"Man, I just thought they were off to a rough start. But it just kept on going. What was the director thinking, letting them open when they obviously weren't ready?"

"Or properly costumed. That leotard did not fit her right."

"And if your leading man can't lift a girl over his head, then don't have him lift a girl over his head," Marty said, feeling that the point, though obvious, had to be made.

"So wait, was she too heavy or was he too weak?"

"I don't know. Neither? Both? Either way, someone should have seen it wasn't working and made a change."

Rory collected her belongings and prepared to head back to their dormitory. "I've never had to give a negative review before."

"What do you think you'll write?"

"I don't know. I mean, I guess I'll have to critique how unprepared it seemed, or how they should have had more dress rehearsals on the actual theatre stage to work out their kinks. Ooo, what do you think about 'Practice Makes Perfect' for a title? And then I'll talk about how this show wasn't perfect but with more practice it could be."

"Yeah, that sounds good."

"I mean, it was a bad performance, but that doesn't mean all the other ones will be bad. I just hope they can work in some more rehearsals so that those other performances aren't their only practice."

"Yeah, and hey, it can only get better, right?"

"Right. It's a show that promises to be entertaining one way or the other," she teased.

They were approaching Durfee, so Marty knew that if he wanted to say something he'd have to do it now. "Rory, just so you know, I'm pretty sure something's up with you, and it's not just about your article. I'm not going to ask you if you're okay again, because I'm pretty sure you'll still say yes even if the answer is no. But if you change your mind and want to talk about it, well, I just want to make sure you know you can…" He waited for her to say something as they walked through the entrance, but she just leaned against the wall by her suite, looking up at him mutely. "Even…" he continued, but was momentarily distracted by the soft look in her eyes and the slight flush he thought he saw on her cheeks, "…even if – I mean, especially if – the problem is me."

He saw her eyes widen as her face crinkled up with what looked like sympathy and guilt. "Oh, Marty, no. You're not any kind of a problem. I mean, yes, I have been in a funk lately, and you're right, I don't really want to talk about it. But you definitely aren't the problem."

"Really? So this has nothing to do with me?" Marty asked hopefully. His relief that he had been imagining everything blinded him from the embarrassment he might have felt for making such a big deal out of nothing.

She hesitated ever so briefly before repeating, "You definitely aren't the problem, Marty," while placing her hand reassuringly on his arm. "And if I change my mind about talking about it, I'll let you know." He nodded understandingly as she took her hand back. "I should probably start writing while the memory is still fresh," she said, gesturing with her notepad.

"Right. Well, I'll see you around, Rory."

"See ya, Marty." He turned and walked up the stairs but paused to look over his shoulder when he heard her call his name. "Movie night tomorrow? I'm game if you are."

"Yeah, that sounds good." He smiled. They exchanged small goodbye waves as she closed her door.

He bounded up the stairs, glad he had said something to her. True, he still didn't know what was bothering her, but he felt they each knew what they needed to and fully expected everything to go back to normal again.

* * *

**AN**: It's not explicitly stated here (well, until now), but because Marty and Rory's conversation about the ballet was less harsh than Lorelai and Rory's conversation, Rory writes a much more professional negative review (no hippo references for example). So basically, she's not a tool and does not receive the wrath of an angry ballerina.


	12. Can't You Read the Sign?

**AN**: Everyone must take note that we have reached chapter TWELVE! Woot! *dances* For those of you asking, that was for my lovely beta, Jewels12. You can dance with us, if you like, and then tell us about it in your review ;) Okay, okay, to the story!

* * *

Rory was horrified. Yes, her grandparents' over-the-top tailgating made her a bit self-conscious, but it wasn't anything she couldn't handle. And sure, her mom was acting a tad loony around the current living version of Dan, but she had become immune to being embarrassed by Lorelai a long time ago. If someone didn't like Lorelai, then it's doubtful Rory would get along with them, either.

But this? Rory froze as her mother's words echoed in her head. _Oh, Naked Guy._ She wasn't sure if she'd be able to come back from this level of humiliation.

"You told your mother about me?" Marty asked, still staring straight ahead in shock. He crossed his arms protectively like he was trying to curl into himself.

"Um, yeah," she said lamely. She couldn't tell if he was embarrassed or mad, but she did her best to recover from the situation. "Well, I included some anecdotes where you were actually clothed, too."

"Oh, I appreciate that," he said sarcastically, but with a wry smile.

Rory relaxed a little at that. She allowed herself to think that maybe it hadn't been that bad as she introduced Marty to her grandparents. But then she was dealt a second blow.

"Why did my daughter just call you 'Naked Guy?'" Richard asked.

_From horrified to mortified._

She saw Marty's eyes bug out at the interrogation. "I now owe you money," she whispered to him, hoping they could laugh this off once again. But on the inside, she was doing anything but laughing. The last time she had been this self-conscious around Marty was at the review, but everything between them had returned to normal eventually, as she hoped would be the case this time.

Luckily Richard was telling his own naked guy story. Though Marty's reaction initially screamed 'awkward!,' it quickly morphed into 'humored,' followed by 'chagrined acceptance' that he had not earned such a title. While by all rights she should be just as embarrassed as Lorelai seemed to be, secretly she felt nothing but gratitude toward her grandfather. By embarrassing the Gilmore ladies, Richard had managed to shift the humiliation off of Marty, diffusing the situation.

She was stunned when Emily invited Marty to stay, but this was quickly replaced by mild disappointment when Marty said he couldn't. She didn't blame him, really. It would have been awkward for anyone to join such a fancy tailgating party with a bunch of eccentrics you only just met, even without various mental images being involved. When he invited her to the party on the lawn, she almost responded with her typical "yeah, that sounds good" before she remembered herself.

"Oh, no thanks," she answered cheerily, knowing it was never wise to bail on the elder Gilmores. Amazingly, though, her grandparents let her off the hook. As they made their exit, Rory chuckled at Marty and wondered if Richard would catch the Star Wars reference.

Walking away, she heard her grandfather say, "I like that boy." She sighed and smiled sadly, dropping her eyes.

_Me too, Grandpa__._

Right after her dream-turned-fantasy about Marty, Rory had been self-conscious and didn't trust herself to be alone with him. It's not like she thought she'd jump him or anything. But she was worried she'd let something slip, or at least her nervous behavior would tip him off that something was up. And she had been right to worry, as her spastic reactions to his accidental dream references at the review indicated. As it turned out, limiting herself to only hanging out with him around the crew tipped him off anyway. He had been so sweet, concerned about what was going on with her. But he had also been hurt, thinking he had done something wrong that made him unwanted, when that was the exact opposite of the problem. She regretted making him feel that way, even briefly, and immediately began sucking it up and doing her best to act normally again.

For a little while, Rory considered being more forward. She thought maybe if she dropped some hints that she was interested in him then he'd open his eyes and see her differently. But then she remembered that first day in the garden and the song he played. She didn't want to manufacture something. If it wasn't there, then it wasn't there. And if it were, then she'd see it, right?

But she didn't see anything. Not really. Rory was only seeing what she wanted to see. They were always just little things, like how he'd bring her food or give her a little neck rub, which could be explained away by their close friendship.

_Sign, sign, everywhere a sign, and none of them meant a thing._

So here she was, stuck in this depressing quasi-state of relationship. It hurt to be just friends with him when she liked him as much as she did. But she didn't want to lose his friendship either by backing off or by trying (and failing) to make something more of it. She tried to convince herself it was just a meaningless crush, and most days she could successfully ignore it, but then a day like today would hit her over the head with it.

Rory sighed, reminding herself it was almost winter break, and kept hoping that would be enough time to get over him.

* * *

"It was nice meeting you, Obi-wan," he said to Rory's grandfather.

Richard only replied with a reserved, "Hm," such that Marty couldn't be sure what it meant. But as they headed over to the lawn, he was pretty sure he heard Richard say, "I like that boy." Marty chuckled to himself. He would have expected them to chase him off after finding out he had been naked around their granddaughter. If he learned anything about the Gilmores, it was that they definitely weren't predictable.

"So, your family was interesting," he said to Rory. A gust of wind whipped by them as they rounded the corner. Without thinking, he automatically flipped his coat collar up, holding it closed in the front.

"Yeah, I am so sorry about that. I told my mom that story the day after I met you. I didn't know I'd ever talk to you again. I never would have told my mom that story after we became friends."

"Rory, it's okay. They were nice about it, actually. Your mom –"

"– is a blabbermouth, I know, but she's harmless, really."

"Oh yeah, I know. I was just going to say that she's kind of… young," he said cautiously.

"Oh, right. That." Rory shook her head as an amused smile spread across her face. "I'm so used to Stars Hollow where everyone knows the back-story that I forget it might surprise other people. Yeah, my mom _is_ young. She had me when she was sixteen. We lived with my grandparents when I was a baby, but it was too confining for her. In case you couldn't tell, she's a very independent, free spirit. So she packed me up, dropped out of school, and found a job. My grandparents were really disappointed because their plan was for her to go to college, which is why it's a big deal that I'm going to my grandfather's alma mater. They don't see her life as a success story, but it really is. She went from being a maid at the inn to being its manager, all while earning her GED and then her associates degree. And now she's working on starting her own inn."

"Wow. And what about your dad?"

"He's kind of in and out of my life. Out, mostly. He's not a bad guy, he just… he wants life to be carefree and easy and doesn't know how to deal with the tough stuff." She looked at him sheepishly as they approached their friends. "Sorry if that was a bit too heavy or whatever."

"No, it's cool. I'm glad you didn't mind my asking."

"Rory! Where have you been?" Julie called out to her. "You know better than to leave me alone with these guys at a football game."

"Then you probably don't want to hear that my appearance is just temporary," Rory laughed.

"What? No, you have to stay," Julie whined.

"Can't. I have to join up with my family again later. But I'll tell you what, how about we invite the boys over to my dorm and make them watch whatever chick flick we pick after the game?"

"Ooo, I love your vengeful side," Julie said, strumming her fingers together evilly. She turned to Carl and Steve to pass along the invitation.

"I notice she's not mentioning the chick flick part," Marty said in a low voice.

"She's well aware they wouldn't come over if they knew all terms, and you better hold your tongue, mister."

"Yes, ma'am," Marty said, straight faced.

* * *

"Are you crying?"

"Shut up."

"If you didn't want us to see you cry, why did you pick a tear jerker?"

"The point was to see if we could make one of you guys cry."

"Well, that only backfired a little…"

As Steve and Julie continued to bicker, Marty chuckled to himself and turned back to the movie. He laughed as the older women cut the emotional tension by arguing over whether or not Sally Field should punch Shirley MacLaine. He noticed his head wasn't bobbling as it should be, so he turned and saw Rory was snoozing in her purple patterned beanbag chair. She was lying across it sideways, and he was leaning against it, resting his head on her belly so that when she had laughed, the whole room bounced in front of him. This was the first funny scene he had been able to see clearly.

When the movie ended, they cleaned up the mess of snacks and soda cans that were strewn about Rory's common room.

"What should we do about her?" Carl asked, looking at Rory.

"Rory, movie's over. Time for bed," Julie cajoled.

"Mmm mmm," she objected in her sleep.

"Rory," Julie said a little more sternly.

"MMM!" she whined in protest, curling into the beanbag.

"Paris isn't in there, is she?" Marty asked.

"Do you really think we could have missed her if she had been?" Steve cracked.

"Right. Okay, well, I could take her in," Marty suggested. He scratched his head for a second and then positioned himself into an awkward squat around the front of her chair. He slid one hand behind her back and the other under her knees. When he scooped her onto his thighs, she turned to him and wrapped her arms around his neck, resting her head on his shoulder.

He grunted softly as he stood up from his squat. Once they saw he was out of danger of toppling over with her, his friends filtered out. The door to her room was ajar, so he just backed into it to open it, nodding goodnight to the crew. As he turned in the doorway, he hugged her closer to make sure he didn't hit her into the frame. When he did this, he felt her press a kiss to his neck.

Marty flinched and tucked his chin to look down at her, confirming that she was still sleeping. The tingle of goose bumps on his neck slowly abated as he felt the spot where her cool lips had touched him beginning to thaw. He remained still, only aware of a clock ticking and the damp spot he felt growing on his shoulder from her drool. Once he felt sure she had fallen back into restful slumber, he walked softly to her bed and gently set her down on it. He took off her shoes and unfolded the blanket at the foot of her bed to drape it over her.

He stood over her with his head cocked to the side in curiosity.

Had she meant to kiss him? Surely not. First of all, she had been asleep. She probably would have done the same thing if it had been Carl or Steve who picked her up, though he felt an unpleasant twinge at that idea. And second, he was Marty. Overlooked, undesirable, standard-issue Marty. He quietly scoffed at his stupidity, a small puff of air exhaling from his nose for thinking she might have meant it.

Slowly and quietly, he left her room. He made sure to turn the knob before closing her door to avoid a disruptive click. He couldn't do the same for the front door since he had to lock it first, so he just did his best to have the door thud closed as quietly as possible.

"Hey," Carl said when Marty entered their room. "What took you so long? You didn't drop her, did you?"

"Hmm? Oh no, she's fine. 'Night."

* * *

As Marty packed up the items he wanted to take home with him over break, he stole a glance over at the small paper bag on his desk. He turned his back to it while he finished folding up the last of his laundry. When he was done, he looked around his uncharacteristically immaculate room and saw there was nothing left to help him stall. With a deep, resigned breath, he turned around and sat on the end of his bed, staring at the bag.

_Will it be weird that I bought her something?_

_You're friends. Friends give friends presents._

_But I didn't buy anyone else anything._

_You're not trying to single her out. You're just closer friends with her._

_But that's the thing. What if she thinks I'm singling her out?_

_Look, it's not like you 'went shopping' for her. You just happened to come across them and thought she'd like them. No big deal._

_Okay, but what if she didn't get me anything?_

_What if she did__ and she's wondering the same thing about you?_

_You think she did?_

_Just take it downstairs and get it over with._

_No, I'll only make things weird._

_What's weird is that you're talking to yourself. Just give her the damned present__._

_Don't yell at me. Just forget it, this is stupid!_

Marty hopped off the bed, ready to throw the bag in one of his desk drawers and be done with it, when there was a knock at the door. He swung it open, and in his surprise, awkwardly started babbling as if he had been caught red-handed.

"Rory! Hi! What are –" He cleared his throat, trying to regain his composure and ignore the spot on his neck that tingled every time he saw her since that night. "What's up?"

"Not much." She shrugged and leaned against the doorway. "I... didn't get a chance to ask you what you thought of our final."

"Oh, I thought it was okay," he responded. "It wasn't as brutal as it could have been."

"Yeah, I was glad there wasn't much related to the first quarter material."

"Well, I guess that's what the midterm is for."

"True, true."

There was a moment of awkward silence where Marty wasn't sure if there was something he was supposed to be doing. "Did you, uh, want to come in?" It felt odd inviting her in. Usually, she just walked in if he was expecting her, or she explained her visit.

"Oh, no, I'm fine," she said with an embarrassed laugh. "I just came by to say 'have a good break' and… and to give you this." Rory moved off the wall she had been leaning on, and he saw she was holding a gift bag. "Merry Christmas," she said with a stiff shrug.

He smiled, both in gratitude and in relief, as he took the bag. "Oh. Uh, hang on. I actually have something for you, too." He stepped into his room and grabbed the bag off his desk. "Sorry it's not wrapped or anything."

Rory gave a relaxed laugh and said, "No, it's fine. Thanks."

As he pulled the tissue paper from the gift bag, he watched her start to open her present. He reached in, removed the blue and green striped scarf, and wound it around his neck with a bemused look on his face. The fuzzy material tickled his neck, causing that spot to tingle again, and he wondered if the scarf would always do that or only when she was around.

"Now you won't have to pinch your collar when it's windy," she explained.

"I do that?"

"Only all the time."

"Oh, that'll be great, then. Thanks, Rory."

"Sure," Rory said as she pulled out a small plastic bag. She looked at the flat cartoon worms for a little bit before looking up at Marty blankly. "I'm sorry. I don't get it," she said with an apologetic laugh.

"They're magnetic bookmarks. Bookworms. See, look." He took one out and opened it, letting it snap itself closed on the paper bag to demonstrate.

"Oh, neat. You know, my bookmarks are always falling out of the pages, or finding some other way of bothering me."

"Yeah, I know." He smiled shyly, hoping he wasn't being a creep for having noticed.

She looked at him warmly, but all she said was, "Thanks, Marty."

"Sure. Oh, by the way, the final draft of my term paper received a better grade than my other drafts. I'm glad you suggested swapping papers."

"Me, too. We should keep it up next semester."

"Definitely."

"Well, I should be going. Enjoy your break, Marty," she said and gave him a friendly hug.

"You, too. See you next year."

He closed the door behind her and checked his watch. It was almost time for him to head out and meet his ride back home. He did one more sweep around his room, checking the mini-fridge for stuff that would spoil over break, and making sure he had everything before bundling up and grabbing his bags.

* * *

Rory could feel her heart rate pick up its pace as she walked up the stairs. While she made her way down his hall, she concentrated on her breathing, trying to force herself to calm down.

_It's just a scarf. That's only one notch above socks, right? It's tied with mittens or a hat. You're giving him one of the most boring gifts possible, so it doesn't matter if he didn't get you anything. He's not going to read anything into it. You're not putting yourself out there. It's going to be fine__._

When Marty answered the door and asked her what was up, he seemed edgy. Wondering if this was a bad time, she quickly chickened out. Her plan had been to chirp 'Merry Christmas!' and hold the bag out to him, but instead she said, "Not much."

She leaned against the frame to hide the gift, giving herself the option to bail. Realizing she had to come up with a new reason for being there, Rory blurted out something about finals. Though the conversation was a little awkward and lame, it made her notice that Marty wasn't edgy anymore, and maybe never had been. Maybe it wasn't such a bad time, after all.

"Did you, uh, want to come in?" Marty asked, interrupting her renewed, internal pep talk.

She became aware of the long pause that had preceded his question, so she laughed nervously when she answered him. "I just came by to say 'have a good break' and…" For a moment, she faltered. This was her one last opportunity to cut bait and run. But she couldn't really think of anything else to finish the sentence.

_Get a grip and just say it!_

"And to give you this," she finished. Her 'Merry Christmas' didn't really have the cheerful ring she had originally intended, but it was done. All she could do now was wait to see what his reaction would be.

"Oh. Uh, hang on. I actually have something for you, too."

When he turned away from her, Rory's face broke out into a grin. She struggled to hide it when he came back to the door, and she was grateful that his apology gave her an excuse laugh. Who cared about how he wrapped it? She felt so much more at ease about giving him a present, now that she knew he had something for her, too.

The exchange went smoothly enough, even though she had to have her present explained to her.

"Oh, neat," she said appreciatively. "You know, my bookmarks are always falling out of the pages, or finding some other way of bothering me."

"Yeah, I know," he answered with his trademark, crooked smile, causing Rory to gaze up at him tenderly.

_He noticed that? Does it mean anything that he did?_

It was such a little present for such a little problem, but it meant so much to Rory. "Thanks, Marty," she said softly.

As they returned to casual, coursework chit chat, Rory wondered if maybe this time she wasn't just seeing what she wanted to see, if maybe this showed that Marty was interested in her. And for a split second, she considered telling him how she felt. But then she realized that there wasn't anything romantic about worms. By the time they hugged goodbye, Rory had managed to quiet the stirring in her heart, reminding herself of her plan to put Marty out of her head.

On her way back to her room, she counted the clips and tried to decide which five books would receive the honors.


	13. Closure

**AN #1 (12-17-09)**: Howdy folks! Thanks so much to my beta, Jewels12, for all your enthusiasm, editing, and encouragement. To the readers: Yes, I know that this event is happening a little earlier in my story than it did on the show, but it doesn't really put anything important out of order. And yes, I know I never actually name the male lead in this chapter, but if you have to ask who he is, then I have to ask why you're reading Gilmore Girls fanfics :) (But I'm glad you are!)

**AN #2 (01-04-10)**: If you read this chapter before this date, please check it out again. I added a whole second half to the chapter (there were a couple minor alterations to the first half, but no game changers). Originally, my plan was to explain Rory's behavior with some passing comments in the next chapter, but it wasn't really working. So I wrote this instead. Hope you enjoy it! Double extra thanks go to Jewels12 for reviewing it and dealing with all my follow up questions while she busily prepared for a certain place we won't be talking about yet. Here's looking at you (out of the corner of my eye), kid!

* * *

He had woken up early to deal with his car. With the repairs finally in progress, he was standing by a tree in the square, scanning his surroundings and planning his next move. He just wanted to stay under the radar until he could leave, and that meant steering clear of the diner. For one, Luke would be there, and he wasn't looking for any more hassle. And two, even though _she_ might still be in school, her _mom_ certainly never went a day without a visit to Luke's. Weston's would likely be his best bet.

The lady behind the counter didn't seem to recognize him, so he felt relieved he had made the right choice. He took his coffee and sandwich and tucked himself into a small, out-of-the-way table. Opening his book, he began to read. It wasn't a very long book, but he would read it 228 times if he had to – anything to keep his head down so he didn't make eye contact with any of the lunatics in this town.

"Hi, I'd like a large coffee and a cherry Danish, please," a familiar female voice said back at the counter.

_Shit._

He closed his eyes and exhaled slowly, not bothering to look up and confirm what he already knew. He went back to reading his book, hoping she'd leave without noticing him.

_Since when does she eat at Weston's?_

He reminded himself that it had been eight months. A lot can happen in eight months, possibly even changing eight years of habit.

_Who do you think you're kidding? She's trying to avoid you, just like you're trying to avoid her. That clearly worked out well._

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her step away from the counter. He glanced up reflexively, thinking she was coming over to him, but she stopped at the coffee pots. He buried his nose back in his book, forcing himself not to turn every time one of her movements caught his eye. It wasn't long before she walked away, and he cautiously looked around the bakery. She took a seat at the table by the display case and, of course, pulled out a book. He saw her open it and purposely cover the bookmark with her hand before settling in for a read.

For a moment he considered going over, but then he remembered his conversation with his uncle.

"Get it fixed quick," Luke had ordered him.

"Believe me, no one wants it fixed faster than me."

"She's over you, you know."

"Who's that?" Sure, going the denial route had been lame, but really, what else could he have said? 'Glad to hear it?' 'Don't care?' It was like Luke was throwing it in his face that he had screwed up the best relationship he'd ever been in, and he refused to admit that his uncle had hit his mark. The most truthful answer would have been 'Don't wanna know,' but that just would have egged Luke on, he was sure.

"You know who I mean."

"Gee, you're so cryptic."

"She's doing great and she's happy. You're not going to do anything to mess that up, you hear me?"

_Who the hell do you think you are, huh? You think I __**want**_ _to mess anything up? I was already outta this hellhole until you dragged me back here. Don't you tell me not to mess anything up when it's your fault I'm still here!_

"I'm here to get my car, then I'm gone," he'd insisted, walking away before Luke could elaborate on why she was doing so great or why she was so happy. He didn't want to hear about all the ways her life wasn't fucked up because of him, or if she was with someone else, or even worse, who that someone else might be.

Although he hated to admit it, Luke was right. She did seem great and happy. As he wondered if Luke had been right about everything, he realized too late that he had been staring at her. It wasn't until her gaze passed over him that he noticed she had been idly looking around the room. Her eyes and head kept their same rates of rotation, neither lingering on him nor darting away. Her face and body language showed no change in emotion.

He turned back to his book, staring blindly at the words in front of him. If his eyes hadn't met hers, he might have thought she just hadn't registered him. But he was sure she had. If she had seemed hurt, he would have bolted from the building to get out of her way. If she had looked angry, he probably would have stood his ground to defend himself from her wrath, making sure she knew he didn't want to be there. But nothing? He didn't know what to do with nothing.

The stalemate quickly agitated him and he had to stifle his jiggling leg with his hand. This time when he turned to her, she was watching the keystone cops through the window as they put the last finishing touches on decorations for every denomination of December holiday known to man. Her book, which was hanging loosely in her hand, bounced slightly when she quietly laughed to herself.

Luke had warned him not to mess anything up. But if she wasn't bothered by him at all, then he couldn't, even accidentally, right? So it wouldn't hurt anything to say hello, right? He rolled his eyes at himself for taking this long to deliberate. He stood up and picked up his coat, sliding his book into one of the pockets as he walked over. When he stopped at her table, he was hoping she would say something – anything – that would give him a clue about where he stood so he knew what to say.

But she just calmly turned away from the window and regarded him, as if she expected him to be there. He was amazed at how strong and confident she appeared even during the long, awkward silence. The Rory he remembered would have been babbling out of discomfort or clammed up out of timidity. Her silence now was anything but timid.

"Hey," he said, finally caving in.

She said nothing. She only stared at him expectantly, her expression clearly conveying that his casual greeting wasn't enough.

"How are you?" he asked, testing the waters. Pretending he didn't notice the silence he already anticipated, he continued talking. "You look good."

She shook her head and held up her hand to stop him. "I won't do fake chit-chat." It wasn't a request. It was a statement of fact.

"Fair enough. Rory, I…" His voice trailed off as he tried to amend what he was about to say. He glanced around self-consciously and leaned in a little. "Look, can I at least sit down?" he stalled.

She shrugged as if to say, 'If you insist.'

As he slid into the seat across from her, she adjusted the book in her hands. He leaned forward, wanting to speak as quietly as possible, but she was sitting back in her chair resolutely. Her thumb was slowly sliding back and forth along the brightly-colored clip on her book. He started to wonder if it meant she was as nervous as he was but then remembered he was supposed to say something.

"Rory, I… I'm sorry," he said with a slight forward jerk of his body. He turned his head to the side, waiting for her response. Surely she'd have something to say to that. But apparently, she didn't. He faced her again, and she continued to stare at him with that same emotionless expression, silently letting him know he had to keep talking. "I'm sorry I left and that I didn't say goodbye or explain myself at all, all right?" Still nothing. "Everything was falling out from under me," he pleaded. "I was ashamed that I had failed school, and I re_fused_ to go back, so Luke kicked me out, plus Jimmy showed up out of nowhere just to leave without an explanation for either coming or going. I just felt completely abandoned."

"You had _me_," she said evenly. It wasn't an offer of sympathy, and her choice of verb tense didn't go unnoticed.

"I know. But I was scared if I told you everything that was going on, I'd lose you, too. I couldn't face your rejection, so I just left. I'd rather you rejected me because I was being an asshole than because I was a failure."

"I don't buy that," she said with a slight scoff in her voice.

He looked at her defensively as she continued.

"Not completely," she amended with a cool shrug. "You felt abandoned, and you didn't want to feel even more so, so you decided to abandon me instead. You gave the pain to me so you wouldn't have to feel it."

He winced, hearing her admit he had caused her pain and knowing that she was right.

"And you didn't disappear just because you couldn't face the rejection. You left like that so it wouldn't feel really over – so you could pretend I wouldn't be able to get over you. And when you came back, you could say it was just a big misunderstanding, and we could get back together. Right?"

He just stared at her, stunned that she could still read him like that. "I'm sorry I hurt you."

She just watched him wordlessly. He understood that she accepted his apology but wouldn't utter the false words of 'It's okay.' He didn't respond to her last accusation because he knew she didn't need him to. That wasn't the point. Her point was to let him know she was over him and to warn him that he better not try to start anything. And she was right. How could he possibly look back on everything that happened and think there was anything to rekindle? Her lack of emotion had encouraged him earlier, but now he knew it for what it was: an utter lack of feeling for him.

"There's no way we can be friends, is there?" he asked.

She considered him pensively. "I don't... I don't know. I mean, I won't avoid Luke's the next time I hear you're in town, but it's not like I'm going to randomly call and tell you how my day went either." Rory shrugged and concluded frankly, "We'll see."

He nodded his head, knowing that was the best deal he was going to get. "Well, I'll get out of your way, then. Bye, Rory."

"Bye."

He stood up and left the building. He kept his eyes on her as he walked along the window, but she had already gone back to her reading. As he passed her seat, he thought to himself, _I think I may have loved you, too_.

* * *

Rory held her breath, pretending to be engrossed in her book but actually keeping half an eye on him as he walked out of the bakery and past the windows. The second he was out of sight, she slumped in exhaustion, sliding down until her head could rest on the back of the chair. She stared at the ceiling, and her book dangled from one hand as her arms hung limply at her side.

_I can__'__t believe you actually pulled that off!_

* * *

The night Rory saw him asleep in his car, she walked home, unable to ignore how much it had rattled her. Waiting for her mom to come home, she was irritated with herself for letting his sudden appearance weird her out so much. Rory plopped down on the couch and flipped through the channels in an attempt to create a distraction.

After she calmed down some, Rory evaluated the situation. She had seen him, but he hadn't seen her. He didn't know how freaked out she was and there was no reason for him to find out. Now that Rory knew he was in town, she wouldn't be caught off guard when he approached her.

But she knew herself well enough to know that she'd still be shaken when he did.

_And why is that? Why can he still get to you like this? You__'__re completely over him._

Rory tossed the remote on the table in frustration, knowing that wasn't completely true. Just because she no longer had any romantic feelings for him didn't mean she was over and done with him. As much as she didn't want to admit it, Rory was still hurt.

Her thought process was put on hold for a little while when Lorelai came home and explained about Luke's mystery-woman-slash-sister and the not-so-coincidental return of his nephew.

Afterward, Rory went to her room and shut the door. She sat on the edge of her bed, trying to figure out how she felt. Though she hated herself for being this self-centered, Rory had secretly hoped he was there to see her and make things right. To find out he was only there for his stupid car bruised her ego. To hear he would have been gone already if it weren't so rundown just added insult to injury.

_He owes me an explanation, dammit!_

Her previous anxiety over seeing him again was now replaced with fury at the idea that he would probably go out of his way to avoid her. With a harsh sigh, Rory stood up and changed into some pajamas, hoping she'd be able to silence her anger long enough to fall asleep.

When she woke up in the morning, an image of him sleeping in his car immediately popped into her head. With a groan, Rory pushed back the covers and rolled out of bed. The boiling in her veins had cooled overnight. Now she was just left with a feeling of dread.

He was out there and she didn't have the guts to confront him. Instead, Rory convinced herself that her pristine room needed to be reorganized. She had unpacked in too much haste; nothing was where it _really_ should be.

Rory sat in front of one of the lower shelves and sandwiched several books between her palms. She twisted to set the stack next to her, but soon heard the growing sound of a hardback avalanche. Dropping the books she was holding, Rory's hands flew to the shelf to keep the others from spilling onto the floor.

"Great," she muttered.

Carefully, Rory wrenched the books back into their proper standing positions, then adjusted them so they were tilted away from the gap. Her hands hovered in front of the shelf briefly before she felt it was safe to remove them altogether.

Turning her attention to the mess on her right, Rory's eyes fell on the novel by Mitsuhashi. She placed her hand on it, and one word came to mind: _Marty_

It occurred to her that this had been the first morning all winter break in which Marty hadn't been her first thought. In the preceding days, Rory would wake with expectations of getting ready for breakfast with the crew and looked forward to seeing Marty there. Then her spirits would sink when she took in her surroundings and remembered that such a breakfast was still a couple weeks away. After that, Rory would scold herself for still being this pathetic.

But she had managed to skip all that today. And even though she knew the reason for this was somewhere out in her town in a leather jacket, Rory decided to call this progress.

Her eyes sparked open with a surge of energy. She scooped up the book and quickly flipped to some highly annotated sections. Rory closed her eyes, trying to remember some parts of Marty's paper and their conversation about Yoshiaki.

"_I think my favorite part is when you point out how Yoshiaki uses silence to his advantage," she had said. "I don't think I consciously picked up on that before, but you're right. In so many of his tense situations, he doesn't say a word, and somehow it gives him this commanding presence, this power over the scene. I went back and read parts of the novel, and in some cases it's hard to tell if he really is that confident, or if he's actually panicking on the inside."_

"_I think it's a little of both. A transition from fake confidence to actual confidence."_

Could she do the same?

* * *

Rory walked past the diner but continued on her way.

After she had fully committed to this fake confidence act, the first item on her agenda was canceling the unnecessary re-org. Rory had even managed to leave behind the small patch of disorder she created.

The second was getting out of the house. This was _her _town, after all, and she was determined to reclaim it. Her plan was to spend the day wandering around town, never knowing when she would see him, but expecting him at any moment. Rory had quickly washed her face, tidied up her hair, and dressed for a day of walking in and out of the cold weather. To speed up the process, she'd decided not to eat with her mom.

Which meant the third item on her list was breakfast. Rory assumed he would be staying with Luke, which was why she passed the diner. She wasn't chicken; she just wasn't about to make things too easy for him.

Rory breezed into Weston's and took her order to a table where she opened a book. Without even thinking, she covered the magnetic bookmark with one hand. She had started doing this a day or two into break, after one too many instances where she stared at it so long she found herself becoming school-sick. Maybe she should have just stopped using those particular bookmarks, but Rory couldn't really bring herself to do that. Instead, she developed this habit with the idea that soon the neon worms wouldn't need to be covered for her to ignore them.

After a few pages, Rory had the distinct feeling that she was being watched.

_All right, show time,_ she thought nervously.

She looked out the window next to her, scanning the square across the street. As she checked the shadows around the various trees and bushes, Rory reminded herself that when she did spot him she shouldn't react.

"_Any time Yoshiaki's eyes passed over his adversary, his features were as indifferent as if it had been a rock there instead. This always left his opponents with a feeling of insignificance, accidentally giving Yoshiaki the upper hand in their confrontation."_

Rory remembered how Marty's paper went on to say that Yoshiaki never _took_ the upper hand, but simply tricked others into giving it to him.

As she looked out the other set of windows to see if he was somewhere on the side street, a certain recognizable coif of jet-black hair entered her peripheral vision. Not expecting him to actually be _in_ the bakery with her, Rory had to quickly talk herself out of her panic.

_Just keep looking around the room. He's only a rock. Do. Not. React._

Rory finished her visual rotation around the room and turned to look out toward the square again. He had been staring at her, but somehow she had kept her cool. Her eyes had looked directly into his, so she couldn't really say she had succeeded at regarding him like a rock, but perhaps a rock with eyes.

Rory used the antics of Taylor and his minions as an excuse to giggle, releasing some of the giddiness she felt over her small achievement.

He arrived at her table, and Rory coolly gave him her attention but quickly became irritated with his light small talk. To her, it meant he was relying on the fact that she'd be too polite to extract more than a bare minimum effort out of him.

Forcing herself to be brief, she cut off his meaningless pleasantries. Rory was somewhat disappointed that she had broken her silence, but felt reasonably sure she hadn't weakened her position. To make sure she wouldn't crack under the pressure again, she literally bit the tip of her tongue. Rory also rubbed the bookmark, trying to draw out the strength and support of her friends the way one would borrow luck from a rabbit's foot.

His plain apology surprised Rory enough that she almost equated that to his version of groveling. But she waited to see if he had anything else to say. When he referenced how he hadn't explained himself, Rory released her tongue and held her breath in anticipation, amazed at how this silence routine was working for her.

It wasn't just the words that he spoke, it was also the strain in his voice as he said them. As petty and childish as it sounded, Rory knew she was winning. And so, she decided it was safe to finally speak. She even dared herself to actually call him out on his past behavior, but it took a lot of control to maximize the economy of her words.

Rory sensed from his respectful attention that her words were having a greater impact on him than they used to. She wondered if this was a result of her earlier silence, or simply growth on his part.

He apologized for hurting her, but Rory didn't respond. She wasn't playing games with him anymore. There just wasn't anything to be said to that. He needed to say it, she needed to hear it, and that's where it ended.

What she didn't expect was his roundabout request for friendship. Rory took a moment to gather her wits again and then gave him the best answer she could muster on the fly. She mentally kicked herself for letting it slip that she had avoided the diner. Half the point of her farce was to make it seem like he had no effect on her. But it didn't seem like he noticed, so Rory cut herself some slack.

The end of their conversation was in sight now, and it made Rory hyper-aware of how tense her body had been through the entire encounter. She imagined this was how cross-country runners felt, finally seeing the far off finish line and only then realizing how tired they were, wishing the slow, agonizing last stretch could just be over already.

Eventually he left, and eventually she felt like she could breathe freely again. She blinked at the bakery ceiling and pulled herself back together. Sitting up, she set down her book and finally allowed herself to take a bite of her Danish.


	14. Return to Never Never Land

**AN**:

STOPPPPP!!!

WAITTTTT!!!

Don't read this chapter (yet)!!!

I added a whole second half to Chapter 13 (Closure). So please jump back and read that at some point, especially if you found Rory's behavior out of place. Originally, my plan was to explain Rory's behavior with some passing comments in this chapter, but it wasn't really working. It ended up exploding into an entire half chapter instead :)

Moving along...

Hello there! Happy Chanukah (forgot to mention it in the last chapter), Merry Christmas, and Happy New Year, in that order :) I know I was quite absent during the holiday season, but you got a chapter and a half out of me today. That should count for _some_thing, right?

Thank you to Jewels12 for cleaning me up and making me presentable :) Let's all wish her luck as she starts back up at a certain place I'm not allowed to actually talk about, but it rhymes with 'cool'. Don't let the older kids steal your lunch money or give you wedgies! Ah yes, and knock 'em dead :)

* * *

Marty was walking through campus, humming to himself, obviously looking forward to this semester. The first time around, he didn't know anyone. But this time, he and his friends had coordinated their schedules, signing up for the same sections of classes they shared or agreeing to take a certain class together this term instead of separately some other time. This semester would be better, he was sure of it.

As he walked through the food court of the student center, Marty saw Rory holding a paper bag as she waited in a line, and his eyebrows lifted in amused surprise. Ignoring the tingle underneath his scarf, he crept up behind her to ask, "So, does this make me one of the Lost Boys?"

Rory turned around and broke into a smile. "Hey, Marty," she greeted him, giving him a hug. "How are – wait, what was that?" she asked, pulling back and looking at him in confusion.

"I asked if this makes me one of the Lost Boys," he said, gesturing to her hat.

She reached up and touched the newspaper on her head. "Right, I forgot that was there. It's a Yale Daily News tradition."

"Ahh, is that why you're back early?"

"Yeah, what about you?"

As she ordered a strawberry ice cream, Marty let her know he was back so he could sign up to be on the event staff. "You know, have access to more bartending gigs for certain after-hours gatherings of alumni and faculty."

"More consistent work, better tips than student parties – I'm with you." She nodded in approval. "So, how was your break?"

"Pretty standard. We had a good Christmas with an extended family gathering the weekend before that. Hung out with Nick and Ben a little – they might actually come down some weekend."

"Oh yeah? That'll be nice."

"How about you?"

"Pretty standard, too, except for the part where my ex-boyfriend randomly showed up," she said, shaking her head in disbelief.

"Whoa, the one who disappeared?" Marty was pretty sure she didn't mean the married one since he lived there, so his appearance couldn't really be called 'random.'

"Yup," Rory said tightly as she took her order and paid.

He cringed in empathy when he asked, "How awkward was that?" and followed as she headed back to the newsroom.

"Pretty awkward at first. But he apologized, and I did a pretty good job of calling him out on some things."

"Good."

"Yeah. I mean, we're not going to be pen pals or anything, but I don't think future run-ins will be painful."

Marty nodded his head in understanding. "Oh, hey, don't tell Julie, but guess what I bought last week."

"What?"

"Some binders and a few packs of loose leaf paper," he said, smiling proudly.

Rory laughed heartily. "Good! You won't regret it." They had reached the newsroom and she gestured with the ice cream. "I better take this to Doyle before it melts."

"Right. I was wondering why you weren't eating it. I'll see you later, Peter."

She flashed him a confused look over her shoulder, and right before the door closed, he saw realization dawn on her in the form of rolling eyes and a shaking head. Marty laughed to himself and continued humming his way to the event staff office.

* * *

Exasperated and free, Rory burst out of the newsroom and rushed to pull out her phone. Holding down the '6,' she hustled through the student center.

"Come on… come on…" she urged, telepathically willing him to pick up.

"Hey, Rory. Or are you still Peter?"

She remembered the hat and whisked it off her head, throwing it into the nearest trashcan. "I'm Rory. An angry, frazzled, at the end of her rope Rory, but still Rory. Please tell me you're free. Seven hours of degradation and belittling at the hands of tyrants is not as pleasant as it might sound. I mean, who asks for strawberry ice cream and then is confused by the fact that there are strawberries in it?!"

"My super sensitive ESP is suggesting you need a break."

"Do I ever."

"Meet me at the cafeteria."

"Oh, I already ate. They ordered in some…"

"I'm not talking about food. Just meet me there, okay?"

"Why?"

"By the exit, not the entrance," Marty said cryptically and then hung up.

She shook her head uselessly at her phone before putting it away and heading off to the cafeteria. Since Rory couldn't guess what he was up to, her mind wandered to their meeting earlier. It was good to see him, and she was pleased to see he was wearing her scarf, but Rory was careful not to disturb the feelings she had managed to settle over break.

When she turned a corner, she saw he was already outside one of the cafeteria exits, fidgeting nervously. "What are we doing?" Rory asked, eyeing him warily.

"Shhhh! Be cool, Gilmore."

"Excuse me, Mr. Squirrelly Jumpy Pants? You're telling _me_ to –"

A student walked out the door, and Marty leaned in toward the trash receptacles by the door, swiping two trays off of one. As the door swung shut behind him, they could hear what must have been an employee's "Hey" fade away behind it.

"Marty!"

"Come on!" he whispered as he turned to hurry around the corner, trying to hide the trays in his coat.

Rory stood stock still by the door, disapproving his behavior. "But you just…"

She saw him disappear for a moment before he returned and pinched the arm of her coat, dragging her along.

"Look, it's a tradition, okay? Now, come on!" Marty said the magic word that would convince any dutiful Eli to comply with whatever craziness was going on. Rory gave in and fell into step with him.

"Fine, I'm coming, but how is tray theft a tradition?"

Marty let go of her coat since she wasn't resisting anymore and they were far enough away from the caf. "You'll see."

They cut through the fine arts building…

"Marty!" she hissed impatiently.

"You'll SEE," he whispered.

… and came out at the top of a spacious hill.

Rory raised her eyebrows at the dozen or so students, either gliding down the hill or trudging back up again carrying…

"Trays."

"Can't put much past you, can we? Are you in?"

"I'm in," Rory said, smiling at the scene. "But you're going first," she insisted, poking a finger at his arm.

Marty spun around on his descent and tumbled backwards off his tray halfway down. Rory laughed when he sprang up and gave a flourished bow. As she glided well past him, he plodded down the hill to fetch his tray. When she drifted to a stop, Rory stepped off her tray and turned to him, giving a quick, self-conscious curtsy.

Later on, they went tandem with Rory holding onto the back of his coat. They both shouted "Whoaaa!" as their trays drifted and sent them sideways. They hit some rough trodden snow which quickly slowed down the trays, dumping the passengers into the snow. Rory threw her arms out to try and stop herself and pulled her legs in to keep from kicking Marty in the head. When she landed in a back flop, she came to a stop and let her legs splay out on the ground. She felt one of the trays bump into her leg as she caught her breath.

"You okay?" Marty called to her.

"Oh yeah, just disoriented." Rory realized she was lying diagonally with her head pointed downhill. She followed his voice and tilted her head to see him a little uphill from her and off to the side.

In one quick sequence of events, Rory became aware of voices that were growing louder and watched Marty's face fall and his eyes bug out before he scrambled toward her. He threw himself next to her, his head landing near her shin right before the dull "Ooomph" of the crash occurred.

"Oh man, are you guys okay?"

"Marty?" Rory called out to him.

"Ow," Marty groaned.

"Do you need some help, dude?"

"Marty, are you okay?" Rory asked, untangling herself from the pile-up to kneel next to him.

"Yeah, I'm fine, just… ow. I think I've had enough tradition for one day."

"I think we're okay, guys. Thanks," she said, and the two sledders walked back up the hill. Turning back to Marty, Rory asked, "Well, what about the tradition where I buy you a coffee?"

"Yeah, I think I can handle that one."

They picked up their trays and dusted themselves off. As they limped back toward the cafeteria, they leaned on each other for support, with Rory's arm around Marty's waist and his arm across her shoulders.

"Thank you, by the way, for being a human shield and all."

"Yeah, well, it was my idea to be out there, so I felt responsible."

"Oh, so if it had been my idea, you would have just sat back and watched them plow me over?"

"Of course! And laughed, too," Marty said over-seriously.

"Evil!"

* * *

When the spring semester started, and some of their classes were in buildings they weren't familiar with, Rory found an indoor 'branch' of their favorite coffee cart. It was by the entrance of a table-filled atrium in the Psychology Department – the Psych Ward as the students called it. It was too echo-y to be conducive to studying or reading, but it was a good place to hang out with friends between classes.

Over the next couple weeks, the crew settled into their new routines. The general idea of having meals together when possible was still in place, and now more of them shared some classes. Rory and Marty still found each other at the library on Thursday nights, and often the crew would end their Saturday study sessions with a movie night in her dorm. And on Sunday mornings, Rory would listen to Marty play in a vacant room in the fine arts center instead of the garden, while the weather was still cold.

Some new additions to their schedules were that Tana had a study group over on Wednesday nights, so Rory would join Marty and Carl up in their room to study, each boy at his desk and Rory taking over Marty's bed. And during a mid-morning break on Tuesdays and Thursdays, the two of them often met at the Psych Ward coffee cart to take a breather in their busy day, sometimes joined by another crew member or suitemate if they were passing through.


	15. Road Trip

**AN:** Hello hello! Super duper scholastic thanks to Jewels12 for beta-ing this chapter even though she is now in the midst of SCHOOL (we can say the word now!). You guys have to thank her, too. Without her, you'd all be tearing your hair out over my repetition. Instead, she tore hers out all by her lonesome. I guess that means you all owe her some hair. Or maybe I do. Hmm, I _was _about to lop it all off. Locks of Love can wait another year, don't you think? Huh? Did you say 'story'? Oh yes... thank you to all the readers who are still following along and to everyone who reviewed previous chapters, and now on with the show...

* * *

"Rory…"

"Shhh!" She was proud of the fact that she was able to actually put a tone to her shushing, clearly conveying 'You know better than to distract me during class.' Rory heard him poke around in her bag, and a minute later there was the snap of a pen being opened.

Her eyes would flit from the professor, to the notes on the board, to the notes she scribbled at her desk, to the highlighted textbook on the neighboring desk she had commandeered, but rarely to Marty. Not that this would offend him, she knew. It's not like this was his first class with the infamously studious Rory Gilmore.

They both heard his phone vibrate. Marty pulled it out of his pocket, annoying her as he let it continue buzzing. Rory tore herself away from her notes to see a confused expression on his face before she turned back to the professor. The phone stopped vibrating and he set it down on his desk.

A few minutes later it buzzed again, the desk amplifying the sound. He quickly snatched it up and stepped out into the hall.

Rory looked up again. This wasn't like Marty. He usually silenced incoming calls right away when he was in a lecture, and he never took a call from class, as far as she knew. As her professor's voice morphed into that of Charlie Brown's teacher, Rory watched Marty pace outside the door. Then she saw him stop short and slump his shoulders. He ran his free hand through his curls until he was gripping the back of his neck.

Marty took a couple steps back to the door, stopped himself, shook his head, and turned to walk down the hallway, disappearing from her sight. Then he came back, no longer on the phone and walking the other way down the hall until he went out of view again.

"What the hell?" she mumbled as she tossed her books into her backpack and Marty's books into his. Throwing one bag over each shoulder, Rory stepped outside and tried to catch up to him.

"Marty. Marty!" she called, but he kept speed walking down the mostly empty hall, oblivious to her yelps. When she had almost caught up to him, Rory shouted his name again in an exasperated tone. This time he heard her, and he stopped so quickly she bumped into him.

Marty spun around and stared down at her, bewildered. "I have to go," he said robotically.

"Yeah, I noticed. Do you want your stuff?" she asked, holding out his bag and coat.

Marty mechanically took his items from her. "I guess… sure. I have to go." He pivoted and started plowing down the hall again as she tried to keep up. When he was outside the building, his feet stuttered in their steps, unsure of which way to take him.

"Marty, what are you doing?" Rory dropped her bag and quickly shoved her arms into her coat, wondering why he wasn't doing the same.

"I have to go."

"Yes, you said that. Dorm's that way," she said, pointing down the well-known route back to Durfee.

"No, I have to GO. I have to LEAVE." Marty's voice rose with panic and his eyes darted around wildly.

As her confusion transitioned into concern, Rory's tone changed from irritated to soothing. "Okay. Go where? What's going on?"

"My mom… My dad…" Marty blindly started walking down one of the paths, clearly not sure where he was going but determined to keep walking. "My dad never calls. He certainly never calls twice. He said my mom… I have to go to Manchester."

Rory's face set with determination as she grabbed his forearm, steering him in a different direction. She didn't know exactly what was going on, but she knew what she had to do.

"Rory, what are you…"

"You have to go to Manchester, so I'm taking you to Manchester," she said matter-of-factly.

"No, you don't have to…"

"Marty, you don't have a car... not that you're in any shape to drive. We're going, end of story. And put your coat on," Rory insisted, taking his bag from him.

They marched to her car in silence and threw their bags into the back seat. Rory's sense of urgency sent her flying through the parking lot faster than usual.

"Please… please drive carefully," he whispered. Rory immediately backed off on the gas and tried to calm down. She pulled out onto the snowy streets and headed toward 91.

Marty kept his phone gripped in his hand, glancing at it every once in a while. He propped his right arm on the door and rested his head in his hand. For the most part, he just stared out the window. Rory caught a glint out of the corner of her eye and turned to see a drip fall from his chin. If Marty was crying, it wasn't obvious: though his face was tense, it wasn't scrunched up in agony; his eyes weren't red, just shining. She faced the road again and felt a clenching ache in her chest. Rory didn't know exactly what was up, but she certainly wasn't going to make him talk about it if he didn't want to.

She felt torn about what to do. Part of her desperately wanted to wrap Marty in a hug to comfort him. Another part was scared that might open floodgates she had gone to great lengths to lock. Then Rory reminded herself that wasn't an option anyway since they were in a car going sixty-five, so she did the next best thing and put her hand over his. For a moment, he didn't move. Then Marty relaxed his hand and let his phone slide out of it before he closed his thumb over her fingers.

As the signs on 93 indicated they were approaching their destination, Rory started to feel anxious. Though she didn't want to disturb him…

"Marty?" she whispered, tightening her hand to give him a gentle squeeze.

"Hmmm?"

"I'm sorry... you're going to have to tell me where we're going."

"Right, yeah. Um, take, uh, take exit eight."

He gave her turn-by-turn directions without explanation until they pulled into the hospital parking lot.

Rory lead him through the lobby to the visitors' desk.

"Patient name please?"

"Mrs. Fischer," she said. Marty whispered behind her and she clarified, "Martha Fischer."

"You're family?"

"This is her son."

"Room 702."

Rory navigated the maze of the hospital, steering him down the corridors to the elevators and then to his mom's wing. She picked up the intercom phone outside the double doors and spoke to the nurse's station for him.

As they waited for the doors to open, she took Marty's coat from his hands and told him, "I'll be right here when you come back, okay?"

He nodded and then squeezed through the doors before they had completely opened. Rory watched him continue down the hall, searching for his family through the glass walls. Just before the doors closed again, she saw him stop and walk into a room. She took in her surroundings and noticed some chairs lined the hallway where she could sit and wait.

Rory wasn't quite sure what to do with herself. Though she wanted to go off in search of coffee, she wouldn't risk not being there if Marty came out. And she worried that picking up one of the magazines on the little side table would be disrespectful. What she really wanted was to call her mom. She didn't know what exactly was going on with Marty's mom, but it made her want to check in on Lorelai and say, 'I love you.'

_This isn't about you. This is Marty's crisis, not yours._

Instead, Rory just sat with her hands clasped in her lap, staring at the poster on the wall across from her, her face set with concern. If Rory could have seen herself, she would have done a double take at the resemblance she made to Emily. As she thought about Marty's ordeal, she hoped everything was going well and would only improve.

Some time later, Rory noticed someone striding confidently down the hall toward her. She quickly turned to the closed doors on her other side, wondering how she could have missed Marty. Rory faced him again, her eyebrows pinched in confusion until she realized she had been mistaken. Not only was this person wearing different clothes than Marty, he was also a little taller and was built a little larger. The resemblance was unmistakable, though.

Rory stood up and called the nurse's station again. The doors opened and when he was close enough, Rory cleared her throat to say, "Third room on your left."

The lookalike whipped his head to look at her uncertainly, and in that moment she caught a glimpse of fear in his eyes – the same fear she had seen in Marty's before they left campus. As he marched past her, he faced forward again and a moment later the doors closed behind him. She watched him through the window and saw him make beeline for room 702. Just before he walked into his mother's room, he turned to give her a curt nod.

Periodically, she caught a glimpse of a nurse or a doctor going in or out of the room. Rory was relieved to see there didn't seem to be any urgency to their visits. However, without knowing what was going on, she still worried.

_Is this what the car ride was like for him? Hours of not knowing what was going on here and not being able to find out?_

Rory felt an ache in her chest again just before the double doors opened and Marty walked through. She stood up, trying to read his face. His eyes were red and puffy, but he gave her a weak smile.

She leaned into him and wrapped him in a hug, temporarily forgetting about those pesky floodgates. "Are you okay?" Rory gripped him firmly, wishing she could protect him from further pain.

He returned the hug and croaked, "I'm a little better now, thanks."

As they sat down together, she watched him expectantly. Marty explained that his dad had called to tell him that his mom had been in a car accident and that he should get up there. Her vitals were dropping for a while. By the time Marty had arrived she was relatively stabilized, though she still hadn't woken up yet.

"She's still in rough shape, but they think she'll be okay."

"Good. That's good."

"Yeah. I didn't tell you what was going on before because I just… I couldn't say it."

"I know. You don't have to explain."

"My brothers and I are going to go home with my dad, though. We want to stick around until she wakes up. I'm sorry you waited around for nothing."

"There's nothing to be sorry about. Do you need anything from your dorm?"

"I don't think so. I'll let Carl know if I do, though. Rory… thanks for driving me."

"You don't have to thank me for that."

"I know, but you missed your classes, and it'll be late when you…"

"Marty. Honestly. It's okay. You'd do the same for me, right?"

They shared an understanding smile before she stood up to leave. Rory gave him another hug, squeezing a little harder and holding on a little longer than usual, and told him to take care. At the end of the hallway, she turned back to see him give a little wave.

It wasn't until then that she realized they had never touched hands or really hugged before. Yeah, they gave each other hello/goodbye hugs, but they had never hugged for comfort.

_Stop it. Don't dwell on silly details. So you held hands. So you hugged. So what? That's what friends do._

* * *

Marty called a couple days later to let Rory know his mom had woken up. She wasn't ready to go home yet. However, she improved enough that Marty would be coming back to school soon.

When he did, Rory helped him catch up with school work where she could. Sometimes he'd have a tense day after hearing news of a minor set back that kept his mom from being discharged, and he went home for a weekend visit once she was released. Other than that, their routine together had gone back to normal, and her floodgates remained safely secure.


	16. Girl Talk

**AN**: Thanks to **Jewels12** for continuing to be rockin' beta-mama even though she is crazy busy with school and her own writing (She finally wrote a third chapter of Numb! You should check it out). I apologize for the late addition of this chapter, but I spent the last week and a half cranking out a one-shot for said Jewels12 (Bus Stop Lovin') in time for her birthday. But now I'm back to being focused on my baby :) Enjoy!

* * *

She stepped off the bus and extended the handle on her suitcase. Even though she had made this journey once already, she still had a little trouble finding the right dorm.

_"You don't have a plan."_

They hadn't even talked yet, and already she could hear her friend's voice. No, she didn't have a plan, but she didn't live by plans the way her best friend did. She took a deep breath in front of suite five and then knocked.

"Hi," she said in a fake chipper voice when it opened.

"What are you doing here?" Rory asked in surprise.

"Well, funny you should ask." She rolled her suitcase out in front of her and boldly stepped into the room.

"Lane, we went over this. You can't just up and leave. Your mother's going to have a double coronary."

"No, she won't. Not this time, at least. She kicked me out." Lane plopped herself onto the couch and struggled to fight back tears. The shock of it must have kept her from becoming upset earlier. Now that she had to say it, though, she felt the pain tightening in her chest and burning behind her eyes.

"What?" Rory gently sat down next her. "She wouldn't do that. Chain you to the porch, yes, but kick you out?"

"Rory, I assure you. I've been kicked out." She proceeded to relay the conversation she'd had with her mother, falling silent when she finished.

"Okay, so she didn't really kick you out, right? She just gave you the option, and you took it."

"She didn't give me any option, Rory! She basically said I could only live there as long I wasn't me." Lane buried her face in her hands and whispered, "Why can't she accept me?"

She felt her friend's arms wrap around her. "She will. Give her time. You've made her believe you were someone else for so long, this just came as a surprise to her."

"I don't have a plan," she said, answering her friend's unspoken question.

"You're sleeping here tonight, on the couch this time, and then I'm treating you to breakfast. That's the plan for now."

While Lane brushed her teeth, she tried to ignore the murmurs that had to be Rory explaining the situation to her roommates or canceling her plans for the evening. She thanked Rory for the blankets and pillow and tried to hold back tears when Rory whispered, "This'll be a good thing, in the long run. You'll see," during their hug goodnight. Once she was lying down in the large, quiet, dark room, though, she couldn't hold them back any longer.

Lane woke up to some knocking. When she rubbed her eyes, she could tell they were going to be obviously puffy. A door opened, and she heard someone shuffle through the room and open another door.

"Hey, Rory! You ready for –" a male voice said energetically.

"Shhh!"

Right, she was at Rory's dorm. Lane felt bad they were keeping their voices low when she wasn't actually sleeping, but played along, not really up for facing anybody just yet.

"Oh, sorry," the boy whispered. "Carl and I were just heading over to breakfast and … Aren't you going to let me in?" Though she couldn't see his face, Lane could tell he was confused.

"Not today, sorry," Rory answered. "I have other plans for breakfast this morning. I'll still see you at the Psych Ward, okay?"

"Yeah, sure. Are you okay?" he asked, sounding genuinely concerned.

"Yeah, I'm fine. It's just that my friend came back last night, remember?"

"Oh yeah, I know. And you know she's more than welcome to hang with us, right?"

"Yeah, and we probably will. I just want to hang out with her alone for now."

"Oh, okay. See you later then. Have fun."

_Great_, Lane thought, the disappointment in his voice adding another layer to her mile high tower of guilt.

"Thanks, you too."

When the door clicked closed, Lane rolled over and yawned good morning.

"Hey. Sorry I woke you. You hungry for breakfast?" Rory asked, sitting next to her on the edge of the couch.

"Sure. So wait, you didn't tell me you have a boyfriend."

"Oh, Marty's not my boyfriend," Rory said, and Lane was sure she saw a slight flush bloom on her face.

"Really? Well, I'm sorry I made you cancel your plans."

"Those weren't plans, just routine. Besides, I didn't cancel because you made me. I wanted to. Come on, I'm hungry."

"Unnngh, when are you not?" she groaned, rolling off the couch and bracing herself to face the day.

* * *

Friday morning, she met Marty and his roommate at breakfast. When Rory and Marty headed off to class, Lane returned to the dorm and washed some dishes in the bathroom sink, trying to earn her keep. Rory brought lunch home, and they watched TV together until her next class. She had worried it would be a little awkward to be there while Rory was out at her Friday night dinner. Luckily the roommates all had plans, and lonely was better than awkward, she figured.

Rory cleared her weekend for Lane. She received a tour of campus and some of the buildings. They had some down time while Rory studied. Other than that, they just caught up with each other.

Soon Lane felt like she had a feel for everyone's schedule in suite five. She knew which coffee to pick up for Paris in the morning, when each roommate should be up (so she'd know if she had to go in and wake her), and when to keep out of the bathroom to avoid messing up the shower timetable. She couldn't say she fit, and she still didn't have a plan, but for now Lane would take routine as a substitute.

It wasn't until Tuesday breakfast that Lane met the rest of the 'crew,' as they called themselves. Though they were nice and friendly, she was self-consciously aware that Rory had to lead conversations away from Yale-specific chatter like classes, professors, or classmates a couple times to keep her from feeling too left out. Which was why she preferred the smaller breakfasts with just Rory, Marty, and Carl, and the even smaller dinners with just Rory and Marty to the ones with the crew. At lunch, Lane preferred Julie's added company. Otherwise, Rory and Lane inevitable talked about home, whether it was Lorelai, Luke, or even Kirk.

Home … She tried not to think of that. It was hard not to when you were sitting like a lump in the middle of all the hustle and bustle of campus life, just feeling how much you didn't belong. To distract herself, Lane would sometimes sneak into a music course, or she'd check out some of the trendy shops that pop up around a college. But most days, she just cleaned up the common room and then curled up in Rory's bed like an ostrich with her head in the sand.

Knowing she had to figure out her next move, Lane had made a few tentative phone calls to Zach and her other band mates. Lorelai was keeping an eye out for rental opportunities for her. Other than laying that groundwork, Lane figured all she could do was wait. She had only been there for a little over a week. Her situation wasn't desperate … yet.

On Saturday morning, there was a knock at the door.

"Hi, Lane."

"Hey, Marty. Come on in."

Rory entered the common room, and Lane watched them dole out food, reheat it, and settle on the couch together as if they were on autopilot. She settled into a chair with her food and a book she borrowed from Rory. It was interesting, but the main reason she was reading it was to keep occupied when everyone else was studying.

At one point she saw Rory, who was sitting sideways on the couch with her bare feet next to Marty, nudge his thigh with her toes. He automatically lifted his leg, and Rory scooted her feet forward, tucking them under his thigh when he put his leg back down. Lane's eyes bounced back and forth between the two. Neither had bothered to look up, both engrossed in their schoolwork. Apparently, this choreography was so run-of-the-mill it didn't require any kind of communication.

It reminded her of the way they would take food from each other's plates, or how he'd reach into her bag to borrow something when they were studying in the library. There was a certain natural intimacy about it. Lane found it strange, though she couldn't say why. She herself had such interactions with Rory, and she knew Rory and Lorelai could go through an entire morning routine anticipating each other's moves without speaking. It couldn't be that it was because Marty was a boy, because Rory had been like this with Dean and Je –

Lane's thoughts stopped short as she stared at the pair on the couch. Suddenly aware of the bug-eyed face she must have been making, she quickly ducked her head back down to her book and pretended to read.

Rory and Marty were dating – they just didn't know it. Rory was never this close to a boy unless she was dating him, which meant they had to be dating, right? Then why weren't they dating?

* * *

The next morning, she and Rory were watching cartoons and eating cereal.

"Oh, hey, did I mention Marty plays guitar?" Rory asked casually.

"Electric or acoustic?" Lane asked.

"Acoustic. He's probably playing at the music building this morning if you wanted to check it out."

"If that's what you want to do, then yeah, I'm game."

"I didn't say I wanted to go," Rory said, a little _too _defensively in Lane's opinion. "I was just suggesting it to you, musical freak that you are."

"Hmm, I beg to differ."

"Excuse me?"

"Rory, how do you know he'll be there this morning?"

"Because he's there almost every Sunday morning."

"And how do you know that?"

"Well, I usually go and read a book there and listen to him," Rory answered, seeming to be a little uncomfortable with Lane's leading questions.

"Exactly. That's your normal Sunday routine, which you missed last week, so you want to go this morning." She shrugged at the simplicity of it. It wasn't an accusation, but Lane wasn't going to let Rory off with this 'I don't really want to go' crap.

"Look, if you don't want to go, it's okay. We don't have to."

_There she goes again. S__till refusing to admit she wants to go._

Lane looked pointedly at her friend. "Rory? How long have you liked Marty?"

"Well, we've been friends since the end of September."

_So__ she's going to start by dodging the real meaning of the question, huh? Next will probably be denial._

"No, I'm asking how long have you _liked_ him?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Rory said, shifting nervously.

"Please. I've seen how you two are practically attached at the hip. And last night, when you had the crew over for a movie, you let him use your stomach as a pillow."

"We're just close friends." Lane couldn't help but notice how robotic Rory's voice was when she said that.

"You've known Carl and Steve for just as long, and you're not like that with them. And Marty's not like that with Julie."

"Drop it, Lane," Rory warned, taking an in-depth interest in catching the last few flakes of cereal in her bowl.

"Aha! You _do_ like him," she said in teasing triumph.

Rory whipped her head up and looked her straight in the eye. "I said drop it."

Lane was slightly taken aback. She and Rory always talked about boys. Why was this suddenly off-limits? "I don't understand," she said softly.

Rory shut her eyes and gripped her spoon, her voice tight and strained. "You're stirring everything back up again. I had it all settled down over break, and it's stayed that way all semester, even when his mom had her accident, and now you're stirring it back up again."

"Stirring what up?"

Rory dropped her bowl onto the coffee table with a loud clatter and sank her head into her hands, digging her elbows into her knees. "Fine, okay? I like Marty. I've liked him since midterms. It doesn't matter, though; it's just a pointless crush."

Lane bit back a smile, amused by how Rory dated her love life by academic events. "What happened when his mom had an accident?"

"I drove him to the hospital in Manchester. He was so sad and scared, and even though it was really hard to comfort him without waking up those feelings again, I did it. This whole time, I've trained myself to stop reading something into every little thing between us, yet here you are doing it for me."

"Rory, I'm no expert about boys or relationships, but I do know you pretty well. This doesn't sound like some silly 'oh, he's fun to hang out with' crush. It sounds like you really care for him. You shouldn't just walk away from that. Tell him," she said gently.

"You think I haven't considered it? I would if I thought he was interested, but he's not. Which means if I tell him, there goes the best friendship I have here."

"You don't know that."

"No, I don't," Rory admitted. "Of course, I don't know that _won't_ happen, either."

Lane pulled her friend up by the shoulder and they faced each other on the couch again. "What if he _is_ interested, and you're missing out on something better because you're too scared to say anything?"

"If he were, I'd see it, wouldn't I? I'm certainly looking for it hard enough."

"Maybe you're looking too hard for some definite, concrete evidence. Tell him. I know, you'll be miserable if it all falls apart," Lane said dramatically. "Then again, you seem pretty miserable already. So tell him. At least then you'll know. If he can't be friends with you after that, then he couldn't have been that great of a friend after all."

Rory quirked her mouth to one side and then took a deep breath. "I'll think about it."

Lane considered the fact that Rory had never been friends with a boy before becoming interested in him. Rory had been attracted to Dean when they first met. And remembering the way Rory had talked about the notes he wrote in her book, Lane knew that her thing for Jess started shortly after he arrived, though Rory would never admit it.

In addition to that, Rory had never gone after a guy before. That was partly because Rory barely noticed guys during those awkward years from 11 to 14 the way most girls did. Then both Dean and Jess had pursued Rory, in their own ways, making it pretty apparent that they liked her.

In essence, boys fell in Rory's lap. No, not all boys, but enough of them. This was the first time Rory fell for a guy she might have to work for, so why wasn't she? Was she really worried he'd say no and they'd have trouble staying friends? Or was she worried they'd date and their relationship would fail like her others? Was she unsure of her feelings about Marty? Or was it just that this situation didn't fit in a neat little equation?

* * *

"Have I mentioned how sorry I am?"

"Only about a billion times. It's okay, Rory. I knew I couldn't stay forever." Lane opened the door and stood her suitcase on end.

"I'll miss you," Rory said as she pulled her into a hug.

"Me too," she laughed. Before letting go, Lane softly whispered in her ear, "Tell him."

They pulled back from the embrace, and she gave Rory her best 'I mean it' face before taking her suitcase and walking through the door.


	17. Major Meltdown

**AN**: Happy Valentine's Day, folks! Thanks to my rockin' beta, **Jewels12**, for (a) talking me into watching the opening ceremonies, (b) simulwatching them with me and (c) going over this chapter even though she still has two more mid-terms left. Let's all wish her luck on them!  
I'd also like to thank all of you who have been reading and reviewing. I know the past few chapters have been dragging so I really appreciate you for sticking with me. Hopefully this chapter will kind of make up for it. A LONG time ago this used to be three chapters. I merged two of them a while back, and then recently decided to tack on the third. All right, I hope you like it!

* * *

Rory walked down the hall blinking rapidly, determined to keep it together until she at least left the academic building. She pulled out her phone, and as she held down the '2,' Rory could feel her hand trembling a bit.

"_Hi, this is Lorelai Gilmore, and you've reached my cell phone. Leave a message, and I'll return your call as soon as possible, th-."_

She ended the call and jammed her thumb on the '3,' willing the telecommunications infrastructure to connect her call faster than anyone else's.

_Hey, I've nothing cute to say for my message … Oh, puppies. There, that's cute. Now leave yours._

Rory closed her phone, knowing this was not a conversation to be had by voicemail. Ponies, card swiper job, sure. Not this. She put her phone away and continued walking to her room. Her new plan was to curl up in bed and have a good cry until she could try her mom again.

When Rory arrived at her door, she could hear Paris on the other side in the middle of some rant. Closing her eyes, she rested her head against the door with a dull thud.

_I can't face Paris right now. She'll know something is up and won't leave me alone until I tell her. Then she'll pounce all over me, telling me everything I did wrong and everything I need to do to fix it._

Rory was so keyed up she felt like she was going to burst. She needed to talk to someone, to be comforted and told that everything would be okay without being judged. If only Lane were still on the other side of the door….

_Maybe I could call her?_

Immediately, Rory scoffed at herself. Lane was in the middle of her own crisis. What was dropping a class compared to being kicked out of your home and then your friend's place? Rory didn't know what she was going to do about this class, but Lane was trying to figure out her _life_.

Hearing a couple passersby snicker at her pose, she remembered herself and straightened back up, grateful that no one had opened the door while she had been there. Rory turned around and leaned back against the wall, staring at the ceiling with wide eyes to keep them from welling up while she figured out her next move.

_Marty._

It was like a whisper in her ear, and for a moment, Rory considered it. He wasn't MIA like Lorelai, or judgmental like Paris, or quite as preoccupied as Lane.

Rory quickly dismissed the idea. Carl could be home and she didn't want to risk crying in front of him.

"Hey, Rory," a familiar voice chirped. She snapped her head forward, plastering a smile on her face.

"Hey, Carl." He was just greeting her in passing, so all Rory had to do was make sure to sound breezy and he wouldn't stop to chat. She didn't exhale, though, until after he exited the building.

Rory rolled her eyes at the coincidence, feeling set up by the gods. The truth was that she was just using Carl as an excuse. She wasn't sure if she could handle being this vulnerable around Marty. Rory turned her head to the stairs and tilted it up toward his room. She pushed off the wall and walked slowly, giving herself more time to calm down.

Taking a deep breath, Rory knocked on his door.

She could hear him talking as he walked across the room. "You missed the bus, didn't yyyou're not Carl," Marty said as he opened the door, changing gears when he saw it was Rory.

"Not today," she said, trying to joke around like normal. _Though I probably wish I was. I bet Carl doesn't have to drop a class_.

"Yeah, sorry. What's up?"

"Do you have a minute? I kind of need to talk to someone."

"Yeah, sure. Come on in." He stepped aside and closed the door behind her.

Rory glanced around his room distractedly. "I wouldn't bother you except Lane's busy with her own crisis, and Paris is Paris," she said, glancing up at Marty in time to see a sympathetic 'well, yeah' expression. "And I haven't talked to my mom, and I need to talk her to her, but I can't reach her, and I just … I don't know what to do!" She had worked herself up all over again, openly blubbering and slightly choking on her words while her voice rose higher in pitch.

Marty just stood there, looking very bewildered for a brief moment before snapping out of it. "Whoa, here, take a seat," he said, offering his desk chair and then dragging Carl's over. Marty set a box of tissues on the desk, and then sat down next to her. "Now, what's going on? You don't know what to do about what?"

"My Game Theory class. I was just in Professor Gilbert's office, and he told me … God, I can't even bring myself to say it out loud," Rory said, dropping her head in defeat and letting a few tears spill over and run down her nose.

When she felt him wrap an arm around her, Rory instinctively curled into him and buried her head in his shoulder, melting into his comfort.

"He said … I have to drop his class," she confessed, her voice slightly muffled by his sweater. "No, that's not exactly true. He _strongly advised _me to drop it. He talked it over with other teachers, and they agreed. He said that I padded my paper, that I work at a slower pace, that I can't handle five classes. But I'm supposed to! I'm supposed to take five classes. Everybody else does. I mean, my grandfather did. God, how can I drop a class when he was so proud of me for taking five just like him? How can I tell my mom I suck at college when she couldn't go because of me?"

Rory felt Marty tilt his head to rest against hers.

"But how can I stay in the class? I mean, a D. The last time I received a grade like this was when I was hit by a deer. If I stay, Gilbert will just be waiting for me to fail so he can say, 'See, I told you that you were a hack, that you were too dumb for my class.'"

Marty's hand lightly drifted back and forth between her elbow and shoulder, lulling her until she didn't feel her pulse pounding in her ears anymore.

His gentle touch made her skin tingle, and Rory had to take a moment to suppress the urge to kiss him before continuing her rant. "I'm not supposed to drop a class. I'm not a drop-a-class person. I get good grades. I … handle things. That's what I do. But I can't handle this. I don't know what to do."

After a few moments of silence, Marty said, "It's okay." Hearing his voice reverberate through his chest, Rory realized this was the first time he had spoken since she put her head down.

"No, it's not okay. I have to make a decision."

"No, you don't."

"What are you talking about? Yes, I do."

"Not yet, you don't," he clarified. "Rory, you're too upset to make this decision right now."

"I'm going to stay upset until I figure this out."

"Well, let's at least calm you down some. Are your eyes closed?"

"Yes," Rory said cautiously.

"Okay, I'm guessing you feel like all eyes are on you; like everyone you know is standing in front of you, watching everything you do. They all have opinions on what you should be doing and how you should be doing it … And you value those opinions because they're all people you respect. Now, I want you to look at Paris until she shrinks down to about an inch tall so you can pick her up and put her in a box."

Marty paused, and she assumed it was to give her imagination time to do what he described.

"Same thing with Gilbert and any other professors," he continued. "And anyone from your town. Even your grandparents. Your mom will probably be the hardest, but I think you can do it. Is everyone in the box now?"

"Yes." Rory felt her breath become very slow and steady.

"Then tape the box closed and look around the empty room. You're the only person there because you're the only one that matters. When you're ready, you're going to ask yourself some questions, and only your opinions are going to count. And when you make a decision, it's going to be on your own and for yourself – not for anybody else."

Marty's voice was far away, and his last sentence sounded like it trailed off.

The next thing Rory knew, she twitched awake, unable to tell if thirty seconds or thirty minutes had passed. Marty's shoulder moved underneath her as he twisted away from her. She heard a soft flop sound before he turned back and picked her up. He laid her down on his bed, and she felt him take off her shoes and drape a blanket over her. Rory listened to him adjust his chair and scribble in a notebook as she drifted back to sleep.

* * *

Inexplicably, she was pouring melted cheese into her coffee and sniffing it hungrily, even though the thought of drinking it revolted her. She was about to take a sip when her stomach grumbled. When she woke up, the cup faded away and in its place Rory saw a bed against the wall across from her and a guitar in one corner. She heard some rustling so she craned her neck and saw Marty at his desk.

"Hey," Rory croaked, immediately clearing the sleep from her throat.

Marty lifted his head and gave her a comforting smile. "Hey, how are you doing?" he asked, turning in his chair to face her.

"Much better, thank you," Rory said serenely. "How long was I out?"

"About three hours. Here," he said, placing a bag in front of her.

"What's this?" she asked, sitting up.

"Burritos. I also picked up coffee." Marty pointed to the cups on the mini-fridge at the foot of the bed. Rory sniffed the air and chuckled at her bizarre psyche.

He took a seat next to her as she handed him one of the paper wrapped items, and they both sat back, leaning against the wall. After taking a few bites in silence, Rory stared at her burrito and reluctantly spoke up. "I'm sorry I freaked out and that you had to take care of me."

Marty shrugged and shook his head. "No worries. I know you'd do the same for me." She raised her head at this and saw him giving her a grateful look.

Rory dropped her eyes to her lap again, shaking her head slightly. Freaking out over his mom was in a completely different league from freaking out over a stupid class. Too exhausted to argue that point with him, she simply said, "I still don't know what I'm going to do."

"No. Hopefully you can think a little more clearly, though. Is everyone still stored away in that box?"

"Yes," Rory said, rolling her eyes slightly at the corny mental image, though she had to admit that it worked.

"Well, there's still a couple weeks before the drop date, so you have lots of options."

"What do you mean? I only have two. Drop Game Theory or stay in it."

"Or you could stay in it for two weeks, making some adjustments to see if you can maintain your current workload before deciding. Or you could audit it. Or you drop it and pick up some other class. Or you could drop a different class instead. You have options. It all comes down to your priorities. Are all the classes you're taking specific requirements? Are they pre-reqs for other requirements? Do you really have to take these exact courses, and if so, do you have to take them this semester? Hell, do you even _like_ the classes? There's a lot to think about, but you have lots of time to think about it."

"How will I know if I'm doing the right thing?"

"On the one hand, you won't," Marty said matter-of-factly. "On the other, whatever you decide will be the right thing to do – as long as you decide it for yourself. And listen, don't take this the wrong way … You should really stop obsessing over the number of courses you're going to carry. I mean, first of all, it's a completely arbitrary number. Classes range from one to four credits, so counting classes doesn't mean much compared to counting credits. Second, you know you were exaggerating when you said 'everyone' was taking five classes, right?"

"Yeah, I know," Rory agreed, somewhat chagrined.

"And you don't really believe that Gilbert thinks you're too stupid for his class, do you?"

"Well, what else could he mean when he said I worked a slower pace than other people? I mean, 'slow' is just a nice way of saying 'stupid.'"

"Or it could literally mean slow. Rory, you're really detail oriented. You write more notes about what you read than anybody I know, you research more thoroughly than most people, and you re-edit your papers more than others might. None of those are bad, they just take more time. It's not that you absorb information more slowly, you just try to absorb more information than others, so it takes you longer to finish your work."

"So I _shouldn't_ be detail oriented?" she asked a little defensively.

"Of course not. You wouldn't be you if you weren't," Marty answered with a soft smile. "But again, it comes down to your priorities. Maybe you should tone down the amount of research on your first pass of your workload, and after everything's at a certain point, feel free to research more and add to your work. That way you don't end up doing 150% of one assignment and 50% of another."

Rory nodded, agreeing that was a reasonable idea. "I guess."

"Look, I know Gilbert rattled you. Don't take his criticism as an insult. Take it as a wake up call that high school isn't the same as college and you may need to re-evaluate your study habits."

"I have a lot to re-evaluate, don't I?" She gazed up at him, re-evaluating more than he knew. Marty wasn't just a close friend. He was a great friend. _"If he can't be friends with you after that, then he couldn't have been that great of a friend, after all,"_ Lane had said.

"Yeah. You have time, though."

This was true. Rory didn't have to make any moves right now. She wouldn't want her current vulnerable state to sway his feelings in any way.

After a pause, Rory decided she wanted to move the focus off of her. "So, how are _your_ classes going?"

"Oh, fine. I'm taking five, and it's a piece of cake … OW!" Marty laughed while he rubbed his ribs where she had elbowed him hard.

"You deserved it. That wasn't funny," she said, trying and failing to hide her smile.

"Seriously, though, you're not the only one having trouble. I'm still catching up from when I was away. Carl's been struggling with one of his classes, so you're in good company."

They finished eating their burritos while chatting about nothing in particular, which was a relief to her. It seemed like ages since she had felt this carefree, though it had only been that morning. Rory still felt stressed over her situation, but now it seemed more manageable.

"Well, I should probably be going. I'm sure there's a cut-off for claiming sanctuary."

It looked like Marty smiled, as if flattered, before hopping off the bed. Then he jokingly said, "Finally!" and Rory figured she must have imagined it.

She followed Marty to the door, and when he held it open for her, she stopped to face him. Rory stood there awkwardly for a moment before stepping forward and embracing him. "Thanks for the reality check, Marty."

Every other time, they had given each other diagonal hugs, with one arm around the side and one arm slung over a shoulder. Even at the hospital, that was how they hugged.

This time, Rory held him with both arms circling his ribcage. Marty hovered over her tensely for a second, then relaxed to hug her across her shoulders, cradling her head with one of his hands. She held on a little longer than usual, then pulled back before it became too awkward.

He stared at her, a little stunned, barely managing to stammer, "Uh, yeah, anytime. Good luck."

"Thanks," Rory said with a small smile, then walked out the open door.

* * *

Though Steve had been the one to mention it, Rory had been the most excited. "Let's all stay up and watch it together," she had suggested enthusiastically. She didn't even seem to care that Steve had warned them there was no guarantee they'd see anything. Rory was sure they would, and Marty couldn't help but believe her.

And here they were, trudging up to the highest hill on campus they could find that wasn't dense with trees. After much deliberation, they finally agreed on a spot. Julie suggested they lie down with their heads together. There were some head bonks, and some wriggling was required, but eventually they settled in so that they were all head to head and shoulder to shoulder like some strange human star fish. Marty was glad March had come in like a lamb. The ground wasn't too cold, and there was barely a breeze so their warm coats were enough.

There were other clusters of people and couples scattered around the hill, together yet separate, all waiting for the same event.

"Will I know it when I see it?" Rory asked from his left. It felt strange, staring at the stars and listening to the disembodied voices of his friends.

"Wait. You've never seen a meteor shower before?" Carl asked from Marty's right.

"No. Why do you think I was so excited?"

"I don't know. I thought maybe you were some astronomy nerd."

"Right personality, wrong category. And I thought you knew me!" Rory said, pretending to be wounded.

"So wait, how fast are these things? Like, if I blink will I miss it?" Marty asked.

"See, I'm not the only one who hasn't seen one," Rory called over to Carl.

"No, they're not quite that fast," Julie answered. "Where is it supposed to be again?"

Steve's hand appeared overhead, pointing out some constellations and – for those who couldn't spot the constellations – trees as reference points.

Half an hour went by, and then an hour. They saw a few of the clusters around them stand up and leave, giving up.

"I told you guys we might not see it," Steve said, interrupting their random prattle.

"We will," Rory assured them.

Another twenty minutes went by, and Marty heard someone's teeth chattering through the conversation.

"I think we should call it, guys," said a vibrating version of Julie's voice.

Marty lifted his head and scanned their surroundings, noting that there weren't many other people left on the hill.

"You guys can go. I'm not ready to give up yet. You're going to be sorry tomorrow, though, when I tell you how great it was," Rory taunted.

"Well, we've already seen one before, so we won't be missing too much," Carl said as Steve helped him to his feet. "You coming, Marty?"

"No. I'm going to stay a little longer, too."

"All right. Good luck, guys."

"Goodnight!" Rory called out to them. After they walked away, she said, "You didn't have to stay if you didn't want to."

"I know. I wanted to. I'm a meteor shower virgin too, remember?"

She giggled, and then they were quiet for a while. It reminded him of the contrast between Saturday study sessions with the crew and Thursday nights with Rory. He wasn't sure how much time went by when he heard her speak again.

"Hey, Marty?" Her voice sounded tinny and a little too light.

"Hmm?"

"Remember that funk I was in around that disastrous ballet? The one I didn't want to talk about."

"Yeah. I'm guessing you've changed your mind about that." He braced himself, not knowing why. She had said he hadn't been the problem, so he shouldn't be worried.

"Yeah. I dodged one of your questions because I didn't want to lie to you, but I wasn't ready to tell you the truth, either, so I answered with a different truth."

There was a pause as he tried to decipher this. "I'm sorry. I'm not following."

Rory took a slow, calming breath before continuing to speak to the sky. "You asked if the funk had anything to do with you, and I said you weren't the problem. While that was true, it technically wasn't an answer to the question…."

Marty relaxed a little at this, though he was still confused.

"I couldn't say 'no' and lie to you, but if I said 'yes,' that would prompt you to ask so many more questions I wasn't ready to answer … Because I wasn't ready to tell you that I had started liking you."

"What?" he asked, laughing out of surprise. "Oh, ha-ha, very funny." Marty waited for her to laugh with him. She didn't. Rory was eerily silent. "Wait a second, you're not kidding?"

She didn't say anything. Instead, he felt Rory's head bump softly against his when she shook her head no.

Marty lay there, stunned and speechless.

_This isn't really possible, is it?_

Girls didn't like him. It was practically one of the laws of the big expansive universe he was currently staring at – one Marty had learned the hard way. Which meant there was no way this smart, funny, cute, sharp girl actually liked him. She was just nice enough to tolerate his company, that's all.

His mind took tally of anything and everything he could think of that might help him figure out if this was really true: the kiss that may or may not have been meant for him, the scarf that his Grammy could have bought for him, the friendly backrubs that they never did with other friends, the whole trip to Newport, her recent freak out, and that hug….

"Marty, please say something."

"I think my brain just short circuited."

"It's okay if you don't like me back."

_Was that true?_ "I – I don't know. I hadn't thought about it." _That much was true._

"Oh … Okay. Well … If you _do_ think about it, and it turns out you're not interested, I want you to know I'll be fine just being friends, and … I really hope you will, too."

"Okay." This was almost too surreal. He was familiar with the struggle to be friends with someone you wished you could be with. Never in his life did Marty think he'd be on the other side, figuring out how to be friends with someone who wanted to be with _him_. It was too ridiculous to even consider. His mind was spinning in circles, trying so hard to understand. This just didn't make _sense_. How could she like him – then, now, or ever?

"Rory? What made you start liking me?"

"Marty," she scolded through a nervous chuckle, nudging his arm with her elbow.

"What?" Marty smiled when he asked his question, glad some playfulness had returned to their banter. It helped him think a little more clearly.

"You don't – you don't just _ask_ that. Not now, at least."

"Then when?"

"_Maybe_ when you tell me you like me back. Definitely not before then."

"_When_ I tell you? That's a little presumptuous, don't you –"

Marty stopped short, and Rory gasped as a few meteors streaked across the sky. More followed, sporadically yet steadily, for a good while. Then they were gone. He didn't know how many minutes went by before Rory spoke again.

"Wow," she breathed.

"Yeah," he said in a daze.

"I'm glad we stayed," Rory said, and he wondered if she meant that more than one way.

"Me, too," Marty answered, knowing it was true either way.


	18. Guy Talk

**AN**: Hi there! I know I always say it, but it's because I always mean it: Thanks so much to my beta, Jewels12. Not only does she catch all my mistakes, but she cheers on my chapters with such enthusiasm that I'm always so excited to hear her comments. Also, thanks to all those who read, review, and/or discuss the chapters with me, as well as to those who add this story to their alerts. I appreciate the ego boosts!

* * *

Nick leaned on his horn, trying to encourage his friend to move a little faster. His previous shorter honks had only earned Ben's head with his patented 'Would you grow up?' expression, so he laughed when just a hand and prominent finger stuck out the front door this time. Ben had such a huge supply of patience that it was very rare to see it run out.

"You need to chill out," Ben said in greeting when he finally arrived at the car.

"Can't."

Ben opened the trunk, raising his voice so he could be heard while he stuffed his belongings in. "You can't really expect my mom to just let me run out the door. I come home less often than you, you know. Besides, since when do you care about sticking to a timetable?"

"Since girls are involved," he called out the window, as if that point were obvious.

"Pretty sure Yale will still have girls, no matter when we roll in," Ben responded when he entered the car.

"Oh, sure, they'll be there," Nick answered, putting the car into gear and checking his mirrors. "Sucking on some other guy's face because we showed up too late."

"What makes you so sure they'd go for you even if we _weren't_ late?" Ben teased.

"Because! We're from out of town. A girl's gonna think, 'Oh, I can act a little slutty around him because I don't have to worry about seeing him in class later.'"

"Yeah, I don't think that's how it works. Besides, your conquests are not the point of this trip. We're trying to make sure Marty has a fun weekend. You know how all he does is study."

"Whatever. You and I both know Marty has fun while he's studying," Nick said knowingly as he turned onto the highway.

Neither of them had any late classes on Fridays, so they had been able to meet up in Newport and hit the road in the early afternoon. Despite his impatience, even Nick had to admit they made good time, pulling in to New Haven with plenty of time for dinner. They went out to a restaurant instead of the cafeteria and made sure to treat the Eli. Marty had, after all, cleared his work schedule in order to be free for them all weekend.

At night, they managed to go to a SigEp party for free, thanks to Nick. Apparently, there wasn't actually one universal secret handshake, but reciting the motto was enough to prove that he and Ben were part of the brotherhood. It came as no surprise that Marty didn't drink anything, though his typical 'No thanks' had been replaced with a firm 'No way' for some reason. When they returned to Marty's room, Nick and Ben played rock-paper-scissors for Carl's bed. How Ben always managed to read his mind at that game, Nick was sure he'd never know.

* * *

They woke up closer to lunch than breakfast, and Nick was hankering for some food almost immediately. He wouldn't even let Ben take a shower so they could get rolling. On the way out of the building, Marty stopped to knock on a door.

"Hang on a sec. I'm gonna see if Rory wants to join us," Marty explained.

"Hey, Marty," a slender brunette greeted when she answered the door.

"Hey, Rory. I wanted you to meet Nick and Ben."

"Oh, right. That's this weekend," she said, seeming a bit relieved for some strange reason. "I was wondering why you didn't stop by last night."

Nick looked over at Ben to share a quick telepathic glance, honed by many years of friendship. They had never known a girl to miss Marty's company before.

"It's good to finally meet you guys," Rory continued.

"You, too," Ben said, taking her outstretched hand.

"Yeah, hi," Nick said kind of stupidly. _Wow. Marty never said she was pretty._

"We're heading over to the cafeteria," Marty explained. "Wanna join us?"

"Yeah, just give me a sec."

While they waited, Nick visually inspected her suite from the doorway. "Jesus, Marty. Why couldn't you score a room like this? I could have slept on that couch instead of your floor."

During their walk across campus, they told Rory about the party the night before and made other icebreaker type chit-chat. She pretended to fascinate them with her morning of studying in a self-deprecating way Nick recognized immediately.

Over lunch, he noticed a couple times when Rory's smile would linger on Marty after he had turned away. He listened as they told joint stories like an old married couple. And he saw the time Marty bumped Rory's hand and looked at her apologetically as he pulled away. Nick had caught Ben's eye each time, confirming that his friend was cataloging these instances as well.

After Rory left, Nick immediately pounced on Marty and asked, "Is there something going on between you two we should know about?"

Marty's face scrunched up in what Nick could only assume was frustration over the internal debate he was having. To deny or not to deny, that was the question, he was sure. "How do you do that?!" Marty finally cried out.

"Do what?" Nick asked innocently.

"See stuff like that. It's just further proof that I'm an idiot, and I'm sick of feeling like an idiot."

Nick turned to Ben quizzically, who answered with a silent shrug. "Okay, now we're lost."

"You think she's into me, right?" Marty asked.

"Definitely," Nick confirmed with a wide grin.

"See? You're around her for all of what, an hour? An hour, and you can tell. I'm here for all of it, all five months, and I'm completely unaware of this apparently glaringly obvious fact."

"Wait, if you're so unaware, how did you know what Nick was referring to?" Ben asked.

"Because she told me almost a week ago," Marty explained.

"Hold on. She told you. That she's into you. But you're not going out together," Nick said – statements that were actually questions.

"Right," Marty answered. Nick swiftly whacked the backside of Marty's head. "Ow! What was that for?"

"For being an idiot."

"Nick," Ben scolded.

"Well, he is. The girl he's been crushing on all year tells him she likes him and he _doesn't_ start dating her?"

Marty's eyebrows scrunched together in indignation. "I haven't been crushing on her."

"Don't make me smack you again," he warned.

"I haven't." Marty flinched and held his arms up defensively when Nick wound up his right hand. "No, seriously, just listen. I haven't, and that's the whole problem. If I already had a crush on her, this would be a no-brainer. But I never thought about it before, so now I'm stuck wondering, '_Do_ I like her? If I do, is it just because she likes me? Am I that pathetic guy who falls for the first girl who pays attention to him?' I don't want to be Cameron Frye."

"God, she really messed you up, didn't she?" Nick said, a little bit in awe.

"This isn't Rory's fault," Marty insisted.

"He's talking about Sarah," Ben interrupted.

When Marty squinted at him, Nick nodded his confirmation.

"You don't know what you're talking about," Marty said dismissively.

"Yeah, we do," Ben continued. "We knew how much you liked her and how hard you tried to make her like you, so we know it sucked when she rejected you. Then you adopted this warped view that _every_ girl would reject you. You did. We couldn't talk you into asking another girl out for the rest of high school. You went from trying way too hard to refusing to try at all."

"Because I didn't want to be made a fool of again. Is that so wrong?"

"No, it's not, Marty," Ben said gently. "If you like a girl but sense she's not into you, it's fine not to ask her out. Instead, you've managed to take it to the extreme where you've completely blocked out her feelings _and_ your own."

"How do you know?" Marty challenged. "How can you sit there all smug, so sure that I like her?"

"I'm not being smug. That's Nick's specialty."

Taking his cue, Nick tried to answer Marty's question. "Listen, your schedule revolves around two things: classes and Rory –"

"I mainly hang out with Rory when the whole crew is together," Marty interrupted defensively.

"Really?" Nick challenged. "Who do you have dinner alone with two days out of the week? Who do you meet for coffee breaks? Who do you study with on Wednesdays? And Thursdays? And Saturday mornings? On top of that, any given week, I can tell you which movies Rory saw – broken down into which she liked and which she didn't – what her current favorite album is, how her favorite album changes almost weekly, whether or not she enjoyed that Friday night's dinner, that she even _has_ these Friday night dinners, when she's away and when she has friends in town. You know how I know all this? Because you don't shut up about her. Which is fine, but I don't know even one tenth of that stuff about Carl, and he's your goddamned roommate. So don't tell us you haven't been crushing on her."

There was a pause before Marty spoke again. "So, she likes me." Nick nodded. "And I like her." Ben nodded. "And not just because she likes me." They both shook their heads. "So, I should…."

"Ask. Her. Out," they urged in unison.

"Okay."

"Okay?!" Nick asked, cautiously excited that they had finally managed a breakthrough.

"Okay," Marty laughed.

* * *

With a Danish in one hand, coffee in the other, and a John Irving under her arm, Rory tried to maintain a calm pace. It was becoming harder and harder as the days went by to keep herself from looking forward to alone time with Marty. The more time that passed, the more likely it was that he had figured things out, right?

When she rounded the corner and saw the garden was empty, Rory allowed herself only the briefest pout before taking a seat. _You knew he probably wouldn't show up today_, she scolded herself. Still, she had hoped it all the same.

Rory popped the last bite of her Danish into her mouth, set her coffee on the bench next to her, and pointlessly opened her book. She knew she wouldn't be flipping a page any time soon considering the fact that her mind wouldn't stop wandering back to the night of the meteor shower.

_They both continued to lie there as the few remaining people walked by. Rory kept waiting just a little longer over and over again, hoping Marty was on the verge of saying, 'What am I talking about? I like you, too.' But it didn't happen. Eventually she realized she was the one who made things awkward, so it was her responsibility to do something about it._

"_Shall we?" Rory asked in her fake snobby voice, using their old, silly bit to break some of the tension._

"_We shall," he agreed. She took it as a good sign that he was playing along like always._

_They sat up and looked at each other for the first time in about two hours. Rory gave him a sheepish smile as they rose to their feet. She busied herself with brushing off her pants and coat so that her hands had an excuse to fidget. Just to give them something meaningless to talk about, she mentioned their Econ class and tried not to be distracted by the thoughts in her head._

_Rory wondered if she had screwed this up and debated whether or not she should have said anything. Since she couldn't take it back anyway, she tried to convince herself that Lane had been right about it being better to know, at least. Well, she didn't know yet because he__ didn't know, but Rory was hopeful she would eventually._

"_Listen, Rory," Marty said when they arrived at her door. "I wasn't stalling when I said I don't know. I just – I need to think about it.__"_

"_Yeah, of course. Just … __Y__ou'll let me know either way, right?"_

"_Yeah. I will. Goodnight, Rory."_

"_Goodnight, Marty," she said as she gave him a diagonal hug, forcing herself not to hold on for too long._

Being patient was the easy part. Rory was never irritated by each passing day of not knowing. The hard part was keeping herself from over-analyzing the time. Was it better or worse, the longer a jury was out? She cursed herself for not watching all the versions of _Law and Order_ or _CSI_ like the rest of the American masses. Some days her over-thinking caused her to be giddy with hope, and other days sulky with despair, both of which she did her best to hide from Marty.

Luckily, her five months of practice had prepared her. Carrying on as normal wasn't too difficult, especially now that she had greatly reduced her stress recently. School had become much easier ever since she decided to drop Game Theory and focus on the paper like a full time class. With any luck, she'd eventually become head of Features, possibly even working her way up to being editor in chief.

"Rory, hey," Marty said softly, pulling her out of her thoughts.

"Oh, hi. I didn't think I'd see you this morning," she said, hoping her smile wasn't flashing too brightly.

"Yeah, Nick and Ben are recovering from a hangover," Marty explained as he spun his guitar around to the front. "So I figured they'll be sleeping for a while yet. I was hoping you'd be here," he said while he sat down. Rory noticed he wasn't looking at her. Didn't that usually mean a guilty verdict?

"Oh?" She hoped she didn't sound too expectant as he began picking out a quiet melody.

"Yeah, I've been thinking…."

_Oh God, here it comes._

"…And thinking and _thinking_, and I wasn't making much headway on my own. Until yesterday when it was brought to my attention that apparently I've liked you for a while and didn't even know it."

"You have?" Rory asked, trying to hide the excitement in her voice.

"Yeah, weird, right? Not that I like you; that I didn't know," he hastened to clarify. Marty finally turned to her and gave her a shy smile. "So, would you want to go out on a date sometime?" he asked.

Rory found it endearing that he was asking her, even though he had to know what her answer was going to be. "I would," she said, completing the formality.

"What about tonight?"

"Tonight? Oh, uh, hmmm," Rory considered playfully.

"What?" Marty asked, trying to figure out what the joke was.

"Nothing, you just asked me out for tonight."

"Right."

"That's less than 24 hours notice."

"Still not following."

"Some socially savvy girls once explained this usually means someone else canceled," she teased.

"Oh, well, yeah, that's exactly what happened," he agreed, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

Throwing social conventions to the wind, she laughed and said, "Tonight would be great." Rory was just too relieved she wouldn't have to wait yet another week for things to happen. "Do you have something in mind?"

"We could do what I originally planned with that other girl," Marty suggested with an innocent shrug.

Rory pushed on his shoulder, causing him to fumble a chord or two. "Hey, no secondhand dates," she demanded.

"Ohhh, well, in that case … We could go to dinner at Sip. It's this coffee house slash sandwich bar that has live music. On Sundays, it's all amateur, so either we'll be pleasantly surprised or we'll quietly heckle them."

"In other words, a good time either way. Sounds fun."

"Good," he said softly, holding her gaze. "So, it's a date."

"It's a date." She smiled. Rory rested her head on the back of the bench, abandoning her John Irving altogether, and just listening to his music. She peeked up at Marty and saw him quirk a half-smile, clearly pleased with himself.

When Marty finished the song, he didn't start another one. "I should probably head back. I bet they'll be up and about soon."

"I'll walk back with you."

She picked up her book and threw away her coffee cup while he spun his guitar around to the back again. They walked a few steps and let their swinging hands nervously bump each other before allowing a couple fingers to catch each other. Rory gave him a comfortable smile as they slid their hands into a better position.

"Oh, look." Rory pointed out a student who was changing the poster for the Friday night dollar movie. "I'm always excited to find out what the next movie's going to be, even though I always opt for going to Hartford."

They slowed their steps and waited a small distance away as the Films student set aside the old poster and raised the new one over his head.

"Maybe if your grandparents cancel on you sometime, we could go," Marty suggested.

The guy was pushing tacks along the top, but the poster was so tightly rolled they could only see the top three inches.

She laughed softly, but not at his idea. Rory was flattered that he'd basically asked her out on a second date before they'd even had their first. "Yeah, we should do that."

"What?" he asked with a smile, wanting to know what he was missing.

"Nothing," Rory answered. She jutted her chin toward the student who was now smoothing his hands down the poster to unroll it.

They were then met with the image of Meg Ryan and Kevin Kline sitting on a bench together with _French Kiss_ printed above them. They both stiffened at the kiss reference, shared a quick glance with uneasy chuckles, and eagerly resumed their walk back to Durfee. Marty asked her about the book she was reading. Grateful for a distraction, Rory eagerly told him the reasons why it was better upon second reading.

When they reached her door, she stopped and leaned back on the wall. Still playing her fingers on his, Rory gazed at him shyly.

"Um, Nick and Ben will be heading out around six. Maybe I could meet you here then?" Marty asked.

"Yeah, that sounds good." They were staring into each others' eyes, and the longer he hovered in front of her, the more sure she became that he was about to kiss her.

"I really…." His voice was soft and low, but after his pause it became more alert. "…Should get going," Marty finished with a slight cringe in his voice.

"Yeah, okay. I'll see you tonight." Rory pushed away her disappointment, reminding herself that she had nothing to be disappointed about. He told her he liked her, he asked her out, and they were going on a date that night.

"Yeah, see you, Rory," he said, giving her hand a light squeeze before stepping away.

* * *

"Dude, where have you been?" Nick asked, pulling his head away from the mini fridge. "We're starving."

"You know I hate that phrase," Marty reprimanded as he put his guitar back in its case.

"Fine, how's 'If we don't go eat right now, I'm going to end up puking in your room'?"

"Much better. Come on."

"Now, where were you?" Nick asked again on their way out.

Ben interrupted before he could respond. "Come on, Nick. It's Sunday morning. You know perfectly well where he was."

"Yes, I know, but I wanted to hear him say it. I _can_ be subtle sometimes, you know."

"_'He'_ is right here, you know. And yes, I was out playing my guitar," Marty half-answered.

"And…." said Nick.

"And Rory was there."

"And…." said Ben.

"And I asked her out."

"AND…." demanded Nick.

"And she turned me down," he said with a shrug, doing his best to look bummed.

"What?!" Nick exclaimed.

Marty caught Ben's 'bullshit' expression and immediately cracked a smile. "I'm kidding. We're going on a date tonight. Ow!" he yelped, rubbing his arm.

"That's for faking me out," Nick growled. "So, tonight's the big night. First kiss with her and everything." He must have noticed Marty's hesitation because he quickly hissed, "Wait, you already kissed her?"

"What?" Ben asked in surprise.

"No, I didn't. I just – I almost did." His friends were staring at him expectantly, so Marty rolled his eyes and continued. "We were saying goodbye, and there was lingering, and I really wanted to kiss her, but then I didn't."

"Why not?" they both asked: one impatiently, the other sympathetically.

"Because! You don't kiss the girl _before_ the date, especially not when it's the first date. Right?"

"Whatever, you've practically been dating since you met her. You could have kissed her before you even asked her out," Nick scoffed.

"Then why did you sound so surprised when you thought I had?"

"Because last I checked, you're still _you_," Nick said as they walked into the diner and took a seat.

* * *

"No, you're just going to embarrass me," Marty argued.

"We won't, I promise. Come on, if it weren't for us you never would have asked her out," Nick reasoned.

Marty looked at Ben uncertainly.

"He knows I'll chew him out the whole ride home if he does anything out of line," Ben assured him.

"Fine," Marty said, giving them his unenthusiastic consent. He walked over to her door and knocked while the guys triumphantly set their bags down in the hallway.

"Hey, Marty," panted the tall girl, jogging in place. "Rory, your date's here," Janet called over her shoulder as she headed back to her mini trampoline. Marty smiled a little as he waited for Rory to come out of her room.

"Hi. You're a little early, aren't you?"

"Yeah, not really, though. The guys wanted to say goodbye, and … I apologize in advance."

Rory gave him a quizzical glance as he stepped aside.

"Would you chill out?" Nick hissed at Marty before stepping into the doorway with Ben.

"We just wanted to say it was nice meeting you."

"And you're welcome," Nick whispered with a wink.

"Oh," she said hesitantly. Rory studied them for a moment, then smiled and leaned forward to whisper, "Thanks."

"Happy to be of service," Nick said proudly and turned to see Marty glaring at him. "What?"

Marty rolled his eyes and slung one of the small duffel bags over his shoulder. "I'll be back in a little bit," he said to Rory.

"Okay. Bye, guys!"


	19. Snap, Sizzle, and Pop

**AN**: Hello folks! Welcome back to all the GG fans who went to the Meet and Greet. I'm seriously considering joining you guys next year :) Can't wait to see all the pictures! Thanks to my multi-tasking beta, Jewels12, for churning through this chapter so soon after getting back. Let's all wish her luck in her volleyball game tomorrow ;) All righty, hope you like the new installation!

* * *

"I have to say, open mike night may just be one of my favorite things now," Rory said as she and Marty walked back to Durfee, their clasped hands swinging between them. "Are they only on Sundays?"

"Uh, no, I think Sip has them on Tuesdays, too."

"Do you ever think about signing up?"

"What? No," Marty said, laughing a little as if the question were ridiculous.

"Why not?"

"Because. I'm not any good."

"What are you talking about? You're better than half the people we saw tonight."

"I don't like to play in front of other people. I just play for me."

"You play in front of me."

"That's different," he said, a faint smile playing on his lips.

She decided not to push the topic … for now. "Did you want to watch some _Freaks and Geeks_?" Rory asked as they walked through the entrance together.

"Yeah, that sounds good."

She unlocked her door and headed toward the microwave. "You pick which disc, I'll make the popcorn."

Marty was already on the couch by the time she finished pouring the popcorn into a bowl. His elbow was propped up on the back of the couch as he rested his head on his hand. Popping a few kernels in her mouth, Rory took a seat and leaned against him in the crook of his shoulder. Marty's arm hovered over her for a moment, then relaxed across her shoulder, his hand resting on her arm.

They had their running commentary as usual. The only real difference now was that they could feel each other's laughter.

"Hey, you're hogging all the popcorn," Rory playfully accused him.

"No, I'm not. I'm taking even turns with you."

"Exactly. Your hands are bigger, so you're getting more popcorn. I call dibs on the rest."

"Rory," he laughed in a tone that said he didn't think Rory meant it.

"Ah, ah!" she scolded when Marty reached for the bowl, holding it farther away from him.

"You're serious?"

"Dead serious."

"You only-children never do learn how to share, do you?" he observed, making another grab when she was distracted.

"Stop it. You're going to make me spill." Rory's arm was fully extended as she tilted away from him.

"You won't spill if you'd just share," Marty said, leaning into her and tickling under her arm to make her bring the bowl back in.

"Ahh! Marty, don't. Stop," she yelped through peals of laughter as some kernels sloshed over the edge of the bowl.

"What? Don't stop?" he asked, adding a secondary attack at her waist. Rory squirmed and tried to push away from him, falling back onto the couch instead.

"Period, there was a period between those two words. Where's my Elements of Style? Okay, okay, here, you can have some!" she cried out, bringing the bowl in.

Marty was on his hands and knees leaning over her, their dying laughter sputtering out of them in sporadic bursts while they tried to catch their breath. Rory was suddenly aware of the intimacy of their current position, and the expression on his face suggested he was too.

"Hi," she said, her voice lower and huskier than she had expected.

"Hi."

To cut the tension, Rory set the bowl on the floor, took a kernel, and held it in her teeth. Marty cocked his head to the side, studying her impish grin curiously. She opened her mouth and let the piece of popcorn fall against her tongue. "All that fuss about sharing, and now you don't even want any popcorn?" Rory teased as she crunched. She placed another kernel between her pearly whites and gazed up at him.

He brought his head down and tentatively touched his tongue to the popcorn. Rory released her hold on it and watched Marty's tongue curl back into his mouth.

"Thank you." He crunched. Marty then took a piece from the bowl and placed it in his teeth, lowering it down to her mouth. Tilting her head to the side, Rory hooked her tongue behind the popcorn to pull it into her mouth. Marty pulled back with a jerk, evidently stunned by her advance.

She gave him a mischievous smile as she brought another kernel to her mouth, holding it a little more tightly this time. When he touched his tongue to it, Rory didn't let go. She giggled as Marty furrowed his eyebrows together. He angled his head and leaned in closer, yet he seemed to be trying to take hold of it without touching his lips to hers. Rory held on as best as she could without biting through the popcorn, willing him to dart his tongue between her teeth or to close his mouth over it. Somehow Marty managed to wrench it out of her mouth with only some minor breakage.

He put the next piece in his teeth and straightened his arms, holding a wink as he lined up his shot. Rory squinted up at him, wondering why Marty was trying so hard to avoid making contact, and then opened her mouth to make the catch. He was so cute. She secretly liked looking at him from this angle. Not just because of the temptation of his body hovering over hers, but also because of how his hair –

The next thing Rory knew, she was coughing and sputtering, clutching at her throat.

"Oh shit! Are you okay? I'm sorry! What should I do? Should I give you the Heimlich?" Marty rattled off, his fear equally apparent in his eyes and voice.

She shook her head vehemently as she pushed him back so she could sit up. Leaning on her knees, Rory grabbed a tissue and held it in front of her mouth, coughing toward the ground.

"No, of course not, you're still coughing," Marty said, clutching his hair helplessly. "Think, think, tenth grade health class. Uhhh, yes, okay, 'Keep coughing. Keep coughing,'" he recited.

The popcorn finally dislodged itself, hitting the tissue in her hand with a noticeable – though silent – amount of force. Rory inhaled deeply before letting out a couple more feeble coughs to clear her throat. Turning back to Marty, she gave him a sheepish smile, slightly embarrassed by the spectacle she had just made. It had been her own fault for not paying attention to when he dropped the popcorn.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his face contorted with concern and guilt.

"Yeah, I'm fine now."

"I'm sorry I almost –" Marty started to apologize, but they were interrupted by Janet and Tana coming home together.

"Hey, guys. Don't mind us. I'm just going to get ready for bed and turn in early," Janet said over-casually.

"What are you watching?" Tana asked, taking a step toward one of the chairs.

Janet reached out and stopped her, steering her by the shoulder back toward their rooms. "You're tired, too, girlie."

"I am? Okay, then. Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Tana," the pair said in unison, followed by Rory mouthing a 'thank you' to Janet.

"So I guess that means Paris will be home soon," Marty predicted while the two girls took turns in the bathroom.

"Um, no, actually. She'll be out for a while yet," Rory corrected, a little self-consciously. He was eying her curiously, so she explained. "I mentioned how we were going on a date, and at five Paris packed up her books and started to leave. She told me she was going to the library and wouldn't be back until midnight. I asked why, and she said, 'I refuse to be anywhere around this date. If it goes wrong, I don't want you blaming me for it.' It's her way of saying she wants us to have a good time."

"Oh," Marty said, chuckling softly. "So … does almost killing you on our first date count as it 'going wrong?'"

"I don't think so. Besides, maybe I'll almost kill you on our second date and then we'll be even," Rory teased. Her elbow was resting on the back of the couch, her fingers absently playing with the curls behind his ear as they watched TV. Eventually the background noises died down, and Rory realized her roommates had gone to bed.

Marty must have noticed as well because when she turned to him, he was already facing her. His eyes were soft and dark, and Rory wondered if hers looked that way to him as she felt her pulse quicken.

He brushed her hair over her ear and off her neck, so she tilted her head in compliance. When Marty started to move toward her, she closed her eyes and leaned into him. A second later, Rory popped her eyes open in surprise, seeing his head pull way from the spot on her neck he had just kissed.

"That was … unexpected." She blinked at him, feeling the tingles spread across her skin.

Marty smiled in quiet triumph. "I just figured I should even things up before our first kiss," he explained with a shrug.

"Excuse me?" Rory asked, utterly confused, but wondering if this had something to with how he avoided her lips during the popcorn exchanges.

"You kissed me on the neck once."

"No, I didn't," she denied, leaning away from him indignantly.

"Yes, you did, in your sleep."

"What? When?"

"After the Harvard/Yale game. You're blushing," Marty observed with a mystified expression.

Rory looked up at his eyes, realizing she must have been staring at his lips. "So?" she asked offhandedly.

"So, I think you're _dying_ to kiss me," he teased, but rolled his eyes at the ridiculousness of his own statement.

"So what if I am?" Rory asked defiantly.

"Wait, what? I didn't think you – I mean, I just thought – I was just kidding," Marty stammered. "I mean, I'm not completely clueless. I knew you'd be okay with me kissing you, but you don't really mean 'dying to,' right?" he asked, completely bewildered.

"Marty," she whispered, closing her eyes for a moment to have a quick showdown with her pride. "I let you know I started liking you months ago. And apparently I couldn't stop myself from kissing you one night. Plus, I was hoping you were going to kiss me this morning outside my room, and with the popcorn before the choking, and just now instead of the neck thing, though I did like the neck thing. So yes, Marty, I'm really hoping you'll interrupt me here and kiss me. Unless … you don't want to," Rory mock-suggested.

"No, no, I do," he said eagerly, then cut himself off with a slight cringe.

"'My, oh my, look like deh boy too shy, ain't gonna kiss deh girl,'" she teased with a faint Caribbean lilt in her voice.

"Really? You're going to quote a cartoon crab to get me to kiss you?"

With a sigh, Rory said, "'Ain't dat sad, ain't it a shame, too bad, he gonna miss deh girl.'" She shrugged away from Marty, pretending to watch TV, not even noticing that it was just credits.

"Rory," he whispered in her ear, leaning his forehead on her temple. "This morning … What I almost said was 'I really want to kiss you.'"

"Why didn't you?" she asked. Rory closed her eyes, feeling his nose brush against her ear.

"Say that, or do that?" Marty murmured.

"Both."

"I assumed it was too soon." His nose was nuzzling the skin just in front of her ear, his lips grazing her lobe.

"It wasn't," Rory breathed.

"Okay," he said simply, placing a light kiss where he had just been nuzzling.

She turned her face slightly toward him, and he kissed her cheek. They were both moving now, and Marty's next kiss landed on the corner of her mouth. He dipped the tip of his nose under the tip of hers in order to get a better angle, brushing his mouth past Rory's in the transition.

When Marty's lips finally closed on hers, they were so soft and warm that Rory was convinced they could melt in her mouth. They shared a few more tender kisses before he rested his forehead against hers.

"So, good? Bad?" Marty asked quietly.

Rory beamed at him, though he couldn't see it. "Good. Definitely good."

"Good," he said, relieved.

She pulled back and studied him with a knitted brow. "Marty, was that your first kiss?"

"Well, no, not technically."

"Technically?" she smiled, silently demanding details.

"Stupid mouth," Marty grumbled as he gave in. "Well, Marla Greenburg sort of mauled me in pre-school, but it was very open mouthed and slobbery. Becky Phillips randomly ran up and kissed me in fifth grade, but later I found out it was on a dare. And at a couple high school parties, Nick and Ben talked me into playing spin the bottle. So, no. This wasn't my first, but it was the first time I managed to kiss someone, you know, on purpose."

The pair looked over at the TV when they heard it shut off with a click. The DVD must have ended and the TV timed out without an input. They turned back toward each other, aware of how late it had become.

"I should probably get going."

"It _is_ a school night," Rory grudgingly agreed.

"Plus, Paris will be home soon," he pointed out, standing up and draping his jacket over his arm.

"Also true," she said, following Marty to the door.

"So…" he began, slowly turning around and eying her shyly. "Can I walk you to breakfast tomorrow?"

"Yes, please," Rory said through a smile.

"Good." Marty stepped to her, resting his hands at her waist, and Rory tilted her mouth up to meet his, twining her hands behind his neck. After a couple kisses, she opened her mouth slightly and closed her lips on his. Marty took the hint, and his tongue lightly swept into her mouth. It was soft and inviting, just like his lips. As she swirled her tongue past his, she was glad to find that nothing melted away.

With a few final pecks, they pulled away from each other. "I had a really great time, Marty," she whispered.

"Me, too. Goodnight, Rory."

"Goodnight."

* * *

Marty bounded up the stairs, three at a time. He burst into his room, spun around to push the door, and leapt into his bed, landing on his back. "Yes!" he called out into the darkness just as the door thudded closed.

"What the hell?" came a muffled complaint from the neighboring bed.

"Oh, jeez. Sorry, Carl," Marty said as he sat bolt upright, equally as startled as his roommate. "I didn't realize you were back."

"Marty, it's…." Carl paused to glance at his alarm clock. "…Eleven-thirty. What did you think I meant when I said I'd be back today?"

"No, I knew you'd be back, I just forgot."

"Whatever. What's going on, anyway?"

"Hmm? Nothing," he said evasively.

"Well, what was all that commotion about, then?"

"Oh, I…." Marty had never been in the position to kiss and tell before, and he didn't feel comfortable with the idea. On the other hand, the whole crew would know they were dating in a matter of hours. "I … just … kissed Rory," he slowly and awkwardly confessed out of the corner of his mouth.

"Wait, you what?" Carl asked, lifting his head and rolling onto his side.

"Kissed Rory," Marty said a little more confidently.

"Why?"

"Because it was the end of our … date."

"Hold on, you went on a date with Rory? I'm gone two days," Carl said helplessly into the air. "What else happened while I was gone? Did Steve become a dad? Did Julie cure cancer?"

"No," he laughed. "As far as I know, the only news is that Rory and I went on a date."

"Finally!"

Learning that yet another person saw what he previously couldn't, Marty huffed inwardly. Then he noticed a contradiction in Carl's reactions. "Wait, 'finally?' Why did you sound so surprised, then?"

"Just didn't expect you to actually get up the nerve. But seriously, good for you, man," Carl congratulated before flopping onto his pillow again.

"Thanks."


	20. Dancing

**AN**: Hello, hello! First and foremost, thanks to my lovely beta, Jewels12, for making the time for this chapter. I don't know how she does it, folks, but I sure am glad that she does :) Second, I don't think nearly enough of you wished her luck on her volleyball game because it managed to be cancelled! It's a travesty, I tell you. Let's all get our mental mojo working together here and will a certain team match up for the playoffs. And third, I'd like to thank those of you who have this story on your alert list and/or who leave reviews. I'd keep writing either way, but there's much more motivation and enjoyment this way :) Okee dokes, on with the show!

* * *

Monday had been like any other Monday. Marty woke up, saw some friends at breakfast, went to classes, had dinner with the crew, studied, and then watched some TV.

Same old, same old.

Same, except for the kiss Rory gave him when he arrived at her door, and how they held hands during their walk to the cafeteria, and instead of going their separate ways after breakfast, Marty walked her to her first class.

Later on after their class together, they ducked into an inset doorway. He gave Rory a couple pecks like he did that morning, then softly deepened the kiss, their tongues swirling past each other in slow motion.

"You know…." Marty murmured against her lips. "I keep expecting you to taste like freshly brewed coffee."

"I don't?" Rory asked.

"Mmm nmm. Raspberries."

"That would be from the yogurt I had with lunch."

"I don't know. You tasted the same last night. That might just be how you'll always taste to me."

When Marty showed up at dinner, their kiss hello was briefly met with "ooOOoo"s from the crew. Julie and Steve had already heard the news, but this was the first time they had actually seen the couple for themselves, so they had to get their fair share of teasing in.

Marty studied in his room for a couple hours, then went downstairs to watch TV with Rory and her suitemates, like he often did. Only this time, instead of having Rory's feet rest on the couch next to him, he sat closer so her legs peaked over his lap, his one hand on her knee while the other stroked her ankle just inside the hem of her jeans.

On his walk back up to his room, Marty's hair was a little mussed up, and a hint of raspberries still lingered on his tongue.

Other than that it had been just like any other Monday.

* * *

When he saw her in line at the Psych coffee cart, Marty snuck up behind her and whispered, "Hi" into her hair. Rory didn't turn around right away, but when she said, "Make that two," to the coffee vendor, he could hear the smile in her voice.

They used to sit across from each other when they met here. Today, though, they sat next to each other, sometimes with one arm around the other. They still chatted just like always, though with a few momentary interruptions that weren't there in the past.

* * *

Even studying with her was nicer. Marty knew better than to distract her in this mode, keeping his hands and lips to himself. To a casual onlooker, nothing had changed.

For example, on Wednesday, he still worked at his desk next to his bed where Rory was stretched out on her side with her arm propped up on its elbow, resting her head on her hand. The room was quiet, save for the white noise made by three students turning pages and scribbling notes.

A more observant onlooker might notice that Marty glanced over at Rory a little more than he used to, and his gazes would linger a little longer than before, but even the most observant wouldn't know that when Marty smiled quietly to himself, he was looking forward to going to sleep later because he liked the way his bed smelled after she had studied on it; or that super-focused, always-studious Rory would sometimes have trouble focusing on her studies when her mind wandered, either remembering or looking forward to private moments with Marty.

* * *

On Thursday, they only wrapped up their work when the library began shutting down. They took the books they weren't done with up to the front to check them out and began packing up their belongings. Marty held the door for her and took Rory's hand as they stepped out of the library.

Walking down a poorly lit section of the campus, he looked down at her. Rory's face was practically glowing in the moonlight as they bantered back and forth.

"Hey, hold on a sec," he said, slowing down and turning her to face him. Marty took one hand and brushed some hair away from her face, watching the moonlight bounce off her skin again. He pulled Rory in and gave her a delicate kiss.

"What was that for?" she asked when her eyes had fluttered open again.

"You just looked so beautiful. I couldn't wait until I dropped you off to kiss you," he explained, leaning in again.

* * *

"Hello?" Marty asked when he poked his head into suite five. Rory had called him on her way back from Hartford, so he was pretty sure she would be home by now.

"I'll be out in a sec," she answered from her room.

"How was dinner?" he asked when he finished setting up a movie.

"Oh, fine. My grandparents say hello."

"They do, now? And why would they do that?" Apparently, it had been a regular, standard-issue Friday night dinner, except Marty had been a topic of conversation this time.

"Because you are dating their favorite granddaughter," Rory explained unnecessarily as she walked into the room and sat on the sofa next to him.

"I am?" he teased between kisses.

"You are."

Marty pulled back to look at her expectantly so she would spill the details.

"They were trying to set my mom up with someone for the next social event with my grandpa's company since she _still_ hasn't told them that she's dating Jason. In order to avoid telling them about that _and_ going on a date with someone that wasn't Jason, my mom started to use me as an excuse to go without a date. 'Rory never brings one,' she said. But that didn't really work because Grandma said, 'It is acceptable for a young, eligible bachelorette to go to these functions unattended so she may meet suitable young men.'"

He blinked, reeling from her seemingly endless rambling.

"She started to say something about how it wasn't proper for a woman my mother's age to go alone, but before she could complete her insult, I cut her off and told her I wasn't so eligible anymore. My mom said 'Really?!' and my –"

"Wait, your mom didn't already know?" Marty asked, as much out of curiosity as out of concern for her oxygen levels.

"Talking to my mom requires my mouth, which hasn't exactly been available during my free time," she explained with a smirk. "Besides, I kind of wanted to tell her in person. Anyways, my grandma said, 'See, Rory _could_ bring a date.' They asked me who this fellow was, and I said 'Marty from Yale,' and Grandma asked if you were that nice young gentleman they met at the Harvard/Yale game. I said you were, and Grandpa said, 'Ahh yes.' They asked how long we had been dating and so forth, and then they told me to tell you hello."

"I can't believe your grandparents remembered me."

"My grandma remembers everyone she's ever met."

"Well, now I don't feel so flattered."

"Marty…."

"So what did they say?"

"They just asked that you come over for dinner sometime and that you remain fully clothed in public until then."

"Oh God, please tell me you're kidding."

Rory just gave him a playful 'who knows' shrug and then hit 'play.' In the past, they usually just sat next to each other on the couch, and if Marty stretched himself out, she usually took a seat in one of the armchairs or the beanbag. But tonight when he lay back on the couch, Rory crawled up next to him so that she was on her side leaning against him, covering half his chest.

"You know what I love best about this movie?" Marty said as the credits rolled.

"Hmmm?"

"The ending."

"Mmm-hmmm," she sighed in agreement.

"I think it says a lot about a person if they love or hate the ending."

"Mmm." Her responses felt like purring through his chest.

"You … are falling asleep." He noted that it was well past midnight at this point.

"Nomnot."

"Come on, let's stand you up."

Rory whined in protest as he helped her to her feet. She stood groggily in front of him.

"Did someone give _you_ an injection to help you sleep?" Marty teased.

"Is this the elevator?" she slurred.

He chuckled at the impression. "You do look like her, you know."

"One of my grandma's friends told me that once," Rory yawned, neither agreeing nor disagreeing, and leaned against him as he put an arm around her and led her to her room.

"I'm no Gregory Peck, though."

She opened her eyes and looked him over, "No, you're more like John Mayer."

Marty smiled at the compliment before giving her a kiss goodnight and seeing himself out.

* * *

Saturday night found Marty watching a movie with the rest of the crew. Rory was in her normal seat on the beanbag, Marty's head was on her belly as usual, and Rory's hand had found a new home resting on his head. As he felt her play with his curls, he quickly looked back on his day.

He had studied with Rory that morning, just like always, with the only variation being a kiss hello. They had joined the crew at Julie's in the afternoon, which, other than the hand holding on the walk over there, had been business as usual.

So nothing had changed really, and yet everything had.

* * *

Rory had never really been in a situation like this before. With Dean … Well, Dean didn't really try for anything beyond kissing. Not that she was complaining – she wasn't really ready for more back then. Jess, on the other hand, took initiative. That's not to say he was forceful in any way, but he definitely took the lead in their experiences.

But with Marty, things felt completely different. Take their first kiss, for example. He _almost_ kissed her several times that day. It wasn't until Rory had made it abundantly clear she wanted him to kiss her that he finally did. It was like a dance. Marty would drop a hint, wait for her to reciprocate, and only then would they take the next step together.

And here they were, dancing again.

It started with just the slightest adjustment of his arms. Marty would often come up behind her and playfully kiss her neck, bringing his arms around Rory's waist and folding his hands over her stomach. Then last week, he did it just a little differently. His hands still came around her waist, but instead of folding them, Marty slid them past each other across her belly. They traveled up the sides of her shirt until his forearms came up so that her breasts gently rested on them. Rory had felt her breath catch in the back of her throat and held it, waiting to see what his next move would be, realizing what she wanted it to be. When he pulled away, Marty's forearms skimmed under her breasts, and Rory found herself needing to steady her breath before she finished gathering up her books for class.

Then a few days ago, they were studying in his room. When they decided to take a break for dinner, Marty came over to the bed to help her to her feet. Rory stood in front of him and felt a huge, full-body yawn coming on. She stretched her arms over her head and went up on her tiptoes. As she finished her yawn and started to relax, Rory felt him reach up and place his hands on her forearms. Marty slowly slid his hands down her arms and smiled. "You look so cute when you yawn like that. You're like a cat."

Rory rested her arms on his shoulders as his hands continued to glide down her arms and over her shoulders, just barely avoiding the tickle zone of her underarm. She felt her breath hitch as his hands continued down her sides, his thumbs grazing the outer edge of her breasts, then coming to rest on her hips. Rory didn't know she had closed her eyes until she was opening them to see him gazing down at her in amazement. It was only then that she realized that her head was arched back and lolled to one side, and that her mouth had been parted, her expression giving away how much Marty's touch affected her.

She went up on her tiptoes again and leaned her chest onto his as she pulled him into a kiss. Rory deepened the kiss almost immediately, and she could feel him tense with surprise – she usually didn't turn up the intensity this quickly. Just as Marty was starting to catch up to her, Rory pulled away.

"The dining hall's going to stop serving in a little while." She tried to keep her voice breezy when in reality she felt completely disoriented. As she turned to grab her jacket, Rory glanced over her shoulder, glad to see he seemed just as disoriented as she was.

And now, tonight, they were spooning on her couch watching _The Office_. Marty's head rested on his propped up hand so he could see over her, while hers rested on a throw pillow. When he shifted his right arm so that it lay alongside her breasts, Rory's thoughts drifted away from the TV show to the events of the previous day….

_She had gone into her room to swap out her study material, and Marty had followed her in, apparently considering it a good opportunity for a study break._

"_You still taste like raspberries," he murmured when they came up for air. Marty had his hands high on her sides while his thumbs swept back and forth, never actually crossing the border between breast and ribs; close enough to make Rory's skin tingle, but too far to satisfy her._

"_Why do you tease me like this?" Her voice had a whining, pleading tone._

"_I'm not trying to tease you." Marty brought his hands to rest on her hips while she clasped her fingers behind his neck. "Rory, it's not always easy to believe that I get to kiss you and touch you. Sometimes I worry I'm pushing my luck."_

"_Marty, you have to see what you do to me. You have to know that you are not pushing your luck."_

_He tilted his head to the side and gave her a sheepish smile before dropping his eyes to the ground. "Well, sometimes I __**do**_ _like seeing your reactions__."_

_As if to prove his point, Marty tucked one of his hands under the hem of her shirt and glided it across to the middle of her abdomen. He turned his fingers skyward and drifted his hand up her body. Rory saw him watching her until her eyes fluttered closed. When his hand slid over the bridge of her bra and along her cleavage, her fingers fell apart. Marty brought his free hand up to Rory's back to support her more, and her hands came to rest on his shoulders. His hand still moved upward, emerging from__ the collar of her shirt. When he reached the hollow of her neck, Marty turned his hand to hold her neck while he leaned in. They shared a heated kiss as his hand slinked back the way it came until it rested on her hip again._

"_Okay, that time I __**was**_ _trying to tease you," Marty admitted._

…Rory pouted when she remembered how, once again, they hadn't done what she was hoping for. She felt silly for being so restless and impatient, but she couldn't help it. The fact that Marty could stop short like that was driving her insane. Glancing down at his arm resting so snugly against her shirt, Rory decided she wasn't going to wait anymore … She'd take matters into her own hands. Literally.

Rory tucked her forearm below his and hugged his arm firmly up against her breasts. She felt Marty flinch, catching him off guard, and smiled to herself. Rory then moved her hand so that it was on top of his, each finger laying on one of his.

She gently pushed her thumb on the inside of Marty's, guiding it up and over her curves. Then Rory nudged on the outside, bringing his thumb back down to her side. She did this a few more times, until she didn't have to push on his thumb at all. Rory just had to move hers, and his would follow like a shadow.

When she was pretty sure Marty caught on to what she was doing, Rory pulled her hand across her ribs, pleased to find that his hand followed hers effortlessly. She moved her fingers so that Marty stroked the underside of her left breast through her shirt. Rory's hand traveled higher, sweeping their fingers around one breast, then guiding him into a figure eight around both.

She felt Marty's heart beating rapidly against her back, so Rory pressed their hands against her chest to let him feel that hers was doing the same. Then she slid Marty's flat hand down her torso, under the hem of her shirt, and back up. As their fingertips reached her bra, Rory felt his hand stop short.

"Your roommates might come back," Marty whispered. There was desperation in his voice, like he didn't want to have to bring them out of the moment, but at the same time didn't want to risk having the moment ruined by intrusion.

"So?" Rory uncharacteristically murmured and resumed coaxing his hand.

She swept his fingertips back and forth across the top of her bra, across one side and back to the other, tracing the three dimensional V along the border of skin and fabric. Then for the tricky part, Rory brought him back to center, her fingers coaching his to undo the front clasp. Her bra sprung open and hung between her skin and her shirt.

Rory pulled their hands back to her right side and tucked their fingers under her loose hanging bra. She slid his fingertips, then fingers, then palm, along the underside of her right breast until he was cupping her.

"Oh my God," he breathed in her ear.

She turned her head and tilted her mouth up to his. As he deepened the kiss, Rory circled his thumb around her firm nipple. Then she guided his hand to cup her left side.

"Your skin … is so soft … How can anything … be this soft?" Marty practically whimpered between kisses.

Rory curled her fingers, easily convincing his to squeeze her flesh. Their lips closed together, and Marty moaned an "mmmphff" against her.

Just as she was gathering the nerve to have him give her nipple a soft pinch, Rory felt his hand freeze and heard the jingle of keys at the door at the same time. She gripped Marty's hand, preventing his hasty retreat. Instead, Rory slowly (agonizingly slowly for him, she imagined) drew his hand down her body as the key went into the door. She brought him to rest on her hip just as the lock clicked open, and while the knob was being turned, Rory casually rested her hand under her cheek so that her arm covered up the unevenness her open bra created.

"Hi," she said innocently, turning her head up to see Paris at the door and wondering what kind of expression Marty was wearing.

Paris just rolled her eyes and scoffed at the cuddling couple, stalking into her room.

Once he caught his breath, Marty looked down at her in awe. "That was, by far, the sexiest experience I think I have ever had in my entire life."

She smiled to herself and cuddled into the pillow. Rory was half in awe of herself as well. She should have been as concerned about her suitemates as Marty had been. But having full control of his hand had temporarily emboldened her. It was only now that Rory considered how mortified she would have been if Paris had opened the door faster and caught them.


	21. Flip Flop

**AN**: Hey, folks. Thanks to those of you still reading, extra thanks to those of you still reviewing, and super duper duodecuple thanks to my amazing beta, Jewels12 :) Hope you like it!

* * *

"My hands are sweating," Marty fretted. "I didn't know that actually happened. I thought it was just something made up on TV."

"Well, I guess they had to get the idea from somewhere," Rory commented sympathetically.

"I can't shake their hands with sweaty palms. Some first impression that will make."

"What are you talking about? You already made a first impression on them, and it was a good one, remember?" she said, trying to calm him down.

"Well, first impression in my new role as your boyfriend," he clarified, smearing his hands on his thighs.

"Ah ah!" Lorelai scolded from the back seat. "Don't do that. It'll leave marks on your pants."

Marty immediately pulled his hands away from his legs and held them out in front of him helplessly. He didn't feel like anything was going right for him that night. First, he thought wearing a dress shirt and tie was enough. However, Rory casually, yet pointedly, suggested he add a sport jacket and borrow Carl's trench coat. Then there was the whole debacle over the seating arrangement in the car. Lorelai refused to either "break up the band" by having Rory or Marty sit in the back alone, or drive them around like their chauffeur. Instead, she insisted on taking the back seat, and Marty kept quiet about how backwards it all seemed to him.

"Here, open that," Rory said, setting her purse in his lap without taking her eyes off the road. "I have some tissues somewhere in there," she suggested as he began digging around in it.

"Tissues?! No, that'll leave little white crumbles all over his hands."

Marty immediately stopped rooting through the purse in exasperation.

"Well, then what do you suggest, Mom?" Rory asked impatiently.

"Crack your window open and stick your hands out. Don't open it too much or you'll mess up our hair."

Marty desperately reached his hands out the window. It was a little awkward contorting his body so his left hand reached the top of the window, plus the lip of the window bit into his wrists uncomfortably. He didn't care, though.

"Oh my god, Marty, I was just kidding," Lorelai laughed as she turned and poked around in the back of the Jeep. "I must have some sort of a towel back here."

"No, no, it's okay. The air actually feels really good."

"Okay, but I'd pull them back in when we get off the highway if I were you. You don't want to trade wet and sweaty for cold and clammy."

It wasn't long before they pulled into the driveway and stepped out of the car.

"You okay?" Rory asked. "Do you wanna bail?"

"No, I'll be fine. Just don't leave me alone with them, okay? I need to work up to that."

"Tell me about it. Thirty-five years and I'm still not there yet," Lorelai agreed as she rang the doorbell.

"Stop it. You'll just make him more nervous. Hey," she said, tugging on his hand. Marty looked away from the mahogany door and into her blue eyes. "I'm really glad you're here," she whispered and placed a light peck on his lips.

Marty's face lit up with a smile, and he felt his terror slip away. He was still smiling brightly when a maid opened the door in front of them, followed closely by Emily Gilmore.

"Oh good, you're here. Richard! They're here! How was the traffic?"

"It was fine. Grandma, you remember Marty," Rory said as she handed her coat over to the maid.

"Of course I do. Hello, Marty." She was polite, yet formal.

"Good to see you again, Mrs. Gilmore." He discreetly slid his hand along the coat before holding it out to her. She accepted Marty's hand and graciously shook it. Her manner wasn't cold, but he certainly couldn't call it warm either.

"Now, if you'll just give your coat to Helen, we'll head into the living room for drinks," Emily instructed patiently.

"Right. Thank you, Helen," Marty said, giving the maid a sheepish smile when he handed it over. As he followed the women into the other room, he couldn't help notice he was the only one who thanked the maid or even addressed her directly. It made him feel strange and uncomfortable, but Marty tried to ignore it as he was reintroduced to Mr. Gilmore.

"…And how are you liking Yale?"

"Very well, Mr. Gilmore."

"Have you declared your major yet?"

"Yes, sir. I'm double majoring in English and creative writing."

"Hm," Richard hummed thoughtfully.

Marty couldn't tell if her grandfather approved of this news, and tried not to fidget anxiously in his seat. He glanced at Rory, raising his eyebrows to say, "See?" Being her boyfriend really did change their reception of him.

She pointedly ignored him, apparently determined to prove him wrong. "I'm trying to convince him to add a minor in music composition," Rory added. "He won't admit it, but he's quite talented." Richard didn't seem any more or less impressed by this information.

Though Marty appreciated the effort, the quirk in his smile was meant to tell her, "Nice try."

A little while later they moved into the dining room. Marty noted it was pristinely set, and caught a waft of some sweet smelling fragrance as he took his seat.

"Helen!" Emily barked, and the maid came trotting into the room. "What are these? Did you put them here?" she demanded angrily, pointing at a vase of wildflowers.

Marty cringed on the maid's behalf at being spoken to in such a way.

"Yes ma'am, they're – "

"They're weeds. What on earth made you think it would be acceptable to bring weeds into this house? Take them away," Emily snarled. Marty's eyes twitched in a slight squint as a flicker of recognition crossed his face. He had obviously spoken to Emily before, but he'd never heard her use this tone until now. It was this voice that Marty recognized; he just wasn't sure from where.

"I actually thought they smelled very nice and was about to compliment you on the choice, Mrs. Gilmore," Marty chimed in. Before she could disappear with the vase, he offered the maid a sympathetic smile. "I'm sorry to see them go, Helen. They reminded me of home. Thank you."

"Marty, that's very kind of you," Emily said to him, her voice returning to the sweet register she used for guests. It was like the difference between a cat's hiss and its purr, and Marty found it off-putting. "However, you don't need to protect her with fake pleasantries. She needs to be told when she has made a mistake."

"I wasn't being fake. I think all people deserve good manners, even when having a mistake pointed out."

He saw Lorelai sputter with her drink out of the corner of his eye, but he chose to ignore it, and continued smiling frankly at Emily. Her face was set with a regal expression, and Marty guessed she was debating between arguing with him and changing the subject.

"Oh, Lorelai," Emily exclaimed conversationally to break the awkward silence. "We just received an invitation to Olivia Woods' wedding."

"Olivia who?"

As Lorelai and Emily debated whether or not Lorelai remembered this person, Marty snuck a peek at Rory. She tilted her head and moved her eyebrows in such a way that he interpreted her expression as asking, "What was that all about?" Marty couldn't tell if she was embarrassed or impressed by the way he had spoken. He shrugged and moved his hand a little, trying to tell her, "I couldn't help it."

"Unfortunately it's the same night as the Seaman's Foundation Ball…."

Marty snapped his head back to Emily at this comment. He flicked his eyes down to his plate, wracking his brain as Emily went on about the agonizing decision they were going to have to make. Suddenly, Marty felt himself go cold with panic. He leapt to his feet and fumbled to catch his chair before it toppled over.

"I'm sorry. I just have to – Excuse me," Marty stammered to the startled Gilmores, and then darted out of the room.

The soft rumble of their confused and indistinct conversation floated out of the dining room as he headed toward what he hoped was a bathroom.

"Marty!" Rory hissed in a whisper from down the hall.

He froze in his tracks and cringed, wondering how the heck he was going to explain himself. Slowly turning around, Marty plastered a smile on his face as she caught up to him. "Hi," he said breathlessly.

"Hi," she returned, chuckling nervously over his odd behavior. "What's going on?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing? You left the table pretty urgently."

"Yeah. Sorry about that."

There was a pause while Marty bumped his fist on his thigh self consciously.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. I just needed to find the bathroom."

"Urgently?" Rory asked skeptically.

"Yes."

"But now, not so urgent anymore?"

"Oh, uh, no. I guess not." She was still watching him expectantly, so he continued. "I just needed a minute to calm my nerves," he explained in a half-truth.

"Look, I know you think they don't like -"

"Rory!" Emily called out to them in false cheer as she charged down the hallway. "Is everything all right?"

"Yes, fine," Rory answered. "We were just -"

"Well, then, I insist you return to the table. The salads have already been served!" Emily continued in a scandalized tone.

"Yes, Grandma," Rory said meekly and then headed back down the hall, followed by her grandmother.

No one seemed to notice that Marty was rooted to the spot.

"Mrs. Gilmore," Marty blurted out before she reached the dining room. "Were you at the Seaman's Foundation Ball last September?" he asked when she had turned and taken a few steps toward him.

"Yes, of course," she answered impatiently. "We've been there every year since Richard started working. We're one of their most reliable supporters."

He nodded thoughtfully. "I thought I recognized you," Marty said in a hard voice, daring her to remember him, wondering if it would occur to her to be embarrassed when she did.

"You were there?" she asked, noticeably flustered. "I'm surprised I didn't make the connection when we met at the Harvard/Yale game."

_I'm not_, Marty thought to himself.

"We must not have been introduced," Emily continued, quickly finding a justification for her social slip up.

"No, but we spoke."

"Really?" Her voice was full of mystified camaraderie. "What did we discuss?"

"Drinks, Mrs. Gilmore," he said tightly, expecting the moment of realization to occur any moment now.

"Please, call me Emily. Oh yes, I think I remember now."

_Clearly, you don't._

It irritated Marty that this woman who 'remembers everyone she's ever met' (according to Rory) apparently only bothered to remember people that 'mattered.' It irked him that she was being so obviously fake, pretending to remember him. Marty wished he could overlook how her tone had changed from cool and formal to warm and friendly, just as his demeanor was shifting from eager-to-please to distant and standoffish.

"Well, come along, now. We don't want to give the cook an excuse to dry out the main course."

Emily startled him when she took his arm as he approached, patting it while they crossed the threshold. They were met with three blank stares that didn't disappear when they had settled into their seats again.

"What are you all gaping at? Eat!" Emily commanded.

As the night went on, Marty talked less and observed more, and though it pained him to admit it, he didn't really like what he saw.

First of all, none of them actually talked. They just glossed over superficial conversation topics. Marty didn't mind so much with the grandparents, but it really bothered him that Rory did this, too. This wasn't the outspoken Rory he knew. This was Stepford Rory, and it bothered him that she was this other person with her grandparents.

Second, Marty had played a little counting game, keeping track of when and how anyone addressed the maid. Emily didn't chastise her the rest of the evening, though she still spoke in demands rather than requests, and her tone remained dismissive. None of the others spoke to Helen that way, which was good. Unfortunately, they did something equally troubling. They simply behaved as if she wasn't there at all. As far as Marty could tell, he was the only one who ever actually looked up at Helen or spoke to her kindly.

He looked over at Rory with concern. She was usually the kind of person who knew her coffee guy by name, or talked to the cafeteria cashier like they were old friends when they only just met. Here, on the other hand, Rory seemed so accustomed to being waited on that she didn't even acknowledge the person doing the waiting. Was this how she was raised? Which Rory was the real Rory? Did he like his Rory enough to accept Stepford Rory from time to time?

By the end of dinner, Rory's grandparents appeared to be smitten with Marty even though he had been reserved for most of the evening. He considered the fact that when he was talking about his majors or defending the maid - things that reflected who he was as a person - Emily and Richard didn't seem to like him. It was only after he joined in with the meaningless small talk that they took an interest in him. Marty enjoyed irony in a good book, not in his own life.

The moment the door closed behind them, Lorelai wheeled around on him. "Holy. Cow. You have to be the first person in history to marginally insult my mother and then turn her into your number one fan."

"Hey!" Rory yelped defensively, tugging his elbow closer with her own. "Number _two_ fan."

"Seriously, what happened in that hallway?" Lorelai pestered.

"I don't know," Marty answered truthfully. "When I tried to make them like me, they didn't. As soon asI stopped trying, everything changed." He shrugged.

"Mmm, that can't be it. I've tried that lots of times and it's never worked," Lorelai disagreed.

"Wait, why did you stop trying to make them like you?" Rory asked.

Marty's insides squirmed as he tried to figure out a way to answer without revealing his contempt. "I don't know. After a while, I realized their opinion of me didn't matter."

"God, I wish I could learn that trick," Lorelai sighed enviously.

"So, does she always talk to Helen that way?" he asked cautiously after they climbed into the car.

"Who?" Rory asked.

Marty pinched back his frown before clarifying. "Helen, the maid."

"Oh, probably," Lorelai admitted. "Technically we've never met her before so we can't say for sure, but going by my mother's track record the answer is yes. Don't worry, though. It only lasts a week."

"So she gets nicer after a week," Marty assumed, slightly relieved.

"Definitely not," Lorelai guffawed.

"My grandma fires her maids on a weekly basis," Rory explained, shrugging a shoulder helplessly.

"What? Over wild flowers?" he squeaked.

"That, or how loudly they walk, or if they put walnuts in the salad…." Lorelai listed.

"Or if they put the candles five inches apart instead of six…."

"Or if they can't tell the difference between a timer and a doorbell…."

"You guys are serious?" Marty asked.

"Oh, we never joke about the maid firing – oh wait, yes we do," Lorelai giggled.

"Is that why I was the only one defending her?"

"Pretty much," Rory admitted apologetically. "We gave up trying a long time ago. Whenever we'd say anything it just made her madder at the maid. The fact that they'll get fired within a week actually kind of makes us feel better about the whole situation. We'd feel worse if we knew they'd have to endure such treatment for longer than that."

Marty nodded thoughtfully to himself. At least their behavior was more understandable. He also wondered if this was why they basically ignored Helen. Why bother getting to know someone that you'd never see again? At least you had a shot at seeing the cafeteria cashier again. He couldn't say he really agreed with this mentality, but he could at least comprehend it.

Instead of driving Lorelai directly home, they decided to hang out with her in Stars Hollow for a little while. The young couple headed over to an old-fashioned soda shoppe, and Marty reeled back when he walked in.

"Whoa, it looks like someone transplanted part of the _Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory_ set."

"Yeah, all that's missing is the sliding ladder," Rory agreed.

"It always bothered me the movie wasn't called Charlie and the Chocolate Factory."

"I know. I love that movie, but that was always my one complaint with it."

"If they ever do a remake, they should give it the real title."

Rory ordered a chocolate chocolate chocolate ice cream for herself, a peppermint stick ice cream for Lorelai, and Marty ordered a cookies and cream malt. He was happy to see Rory chatting with the server, asking if she was new, addressing her by name, and telling her the best ways to drive the owner crazy without being caught. They asked for everything to go so they could walk around to meet Lorelai at Luke's for pie.

Marty moved the bag from one hand to the other so he could get the door for her. He heard a bell jingle and saw Lorelai and the man across the counter from her look up as Rory walked through the door.

"What have I told you about bringing other people's food in here?" the man grumbled to Lorelai.

"Why are you getting mad at _me_? I'm not the one holding the bag."

Marty froze, expecting to be told off by the man he assumed was Luke, based on Rory's stories and their current location.

"I'm sorry," Marty said to Luke. _I'm just full of great first impressions today._ "Should we –" he trailed off to Rory, pointing to the door.

"You're fine, go sit," Lorelai instructed them breezily.

"Hey, what does the sign outside say?" Luke snapped at Lorelai.

"William's Hardware," she quipped with a grin.

"The other sign," Luke said with clear exasperation. "Does it say Lorelai's Diner? I don't think so. How about you let me call the shots in my own establishment?" Turning to speak to Marty for the first time, Luke tersely said, "You're fine. Go sit."

"Don't worry, he's all bark and no bite … Well, very little bite," Rory whispered to him as they picked out a table. Lorelai turned on her stool, dismounted, and joined them. As Marty helped Rory with her coat, Lorelai handed out their ice cream orders from the bag.

Luke came over and asked, "You're at least going to order something while you're here, aren't you?"

"Of course. We'll have three coffees and three slices of pie," Lorelai answered as Marty held Rory's chair to tuck her in.

"Why do I even ask?" Luke moaned as he started to walk away, shaking his head.

"Wait," Rory said, calling him back to the table. "I want you to meet my boyfriend. Marty Fischer, Luke Danes."

Marty turned to Luke and put out his hand. "Nice to meet you, Mr. Danes." He heard the girls snickering, and he wondered what he was doing wrong.

Luke shook his hand and mumbled, "You too, Marty, but for everyone's sake, call me Luke, okay?"

Marty nodded as Luke turned away. He folded Carl's coat over the chair and draped his jacket over it. Taking his seat, Marty loosened his tie and collar and rolled up his sleeves, finally feeling more like himself.

A little later, Rory felt cold from the ice cream and put her coat back on. She was still shivering, though, and rubbing her legs together. While she and Lorelai chatted away, Marty reached around to take his jacket off the back of his chair. He draped it over her lap and was rewarded with his favorite smile.

Marty noticed Luke watching them out of the corner of his eye. Just as he looked up, Luke turned away and fiddled with the register.

"Luke, are you done cashing out yet? We finished eating our crappy food, so it's safe to come hang out with us," Lorelai called over.

He listened to Rory and Luke catching up, leading the three of them to trade zany stories about their fellow townsfolk, some of which Marty was sure had to be made up. He was still quiet like he was at dinner with the Gilmores, though not for the same reasons. At dinner he was quiet because he was recoiling from the grandparents' behavior, and shifted to observing as an alternative to talking. Here, Marty was content to observe the trio – he was only silent so that he wouldn't interrupt or miss any of their engaging conversation.

Marty heard amusing anecdotes from Rory's childhood, and was warned to stay out of arms reach of a Miss Patty. This … _This_ was how she was raised. This was the real Rory, he was sure. He didn't realize he was smiling to himself until Rory looked up at him and blushed.

"Okay, enough stories about me. Can we change the subject?" she pleaded.

"Sure," Lorelai agreed gamely before turning on Marty. "So, what was your childhood like?"

"Oh, um, pretty standard," he insisted, trying to brush off the question.

"No seriously, what did you like to do for fun when you were a kid?" Lorelai urged.

"Well, I used to fish."

"Really?" Luke asked. "What did you fish?"

"When I was really little I only ever caught bluegills on family trips to the lake. I didn't know why the grown-ups caught cool fish like trout and bass and the kids always caught bluegills until I started paying attention to bait. My uncle Jerry showed me some tricks and let me borrow his rod, so I fished in the nearby creeks or ponds up through junior high and just caught what was around."

"Why'd you stop? Lost interest?" Luke guessed.

"No, I'd still fish if I could. Life just became busy when high school started. More class work, started a job, more responsibility at the house. I just didn't have time to take off and fish," Marty said with a shrug. "I didn't have my own gear, and it didn't make sense to hang on to my uncle's stuff on the off chance I'd use it."

Marty noticed Luke nod thoughtfully as the girls started asking other questions about his youth. He smiled and laughed, feeling comfortable for the first time that evening. He felt at ease, at peace.

At home.


	22. Spring Break Confession

**AN**: Howdy, folks! First order of thanks goes to my great beta, Jewels12, who tackled this chapter so soon after her finals. I'm going to have to find a way to reward her some day :) Next order of thanks goes to any and all readers, but especially to those who have liked it enough to set up a story alert or leave a review. You all rock!

**Side note**: For the most part, I've only altered Rory's storyline (in comparison with the show), and made references that suggest that no one else's storylines have changed (ex: Paris still dates Asher, Lane still leaves home, Lorelai still dates Jason). I've also omitted some things from Rory's story and kind of taken it for granted that you guys picked up on the fact that they didn't happen (like she and her mom never had that conversation about Trevor so she never goes on a date with him, and Rory's preoccupied with Marty so the debacle with the Laundry Room Guy never happens). However, I have made the decision to omit something from the show that involves someone else's storyline, and since it's kind of hard to off-handedly say something DIDN'T happen I figured I should announce it. Lorelai 'Trix' Gilmore does not die at this point in the story. I don't have a strong reason for this. I don't have any plans to involve her in my story, but in case I do, I wouldn't want to be called out on a continuity error. Basically, Trix's death didn't have much purpose on the show other than to give the elder Gilmores a bit of a roller coaster ride. Since my story includes but doesn't focus on the G-units, and I couldn't figure out a way for Trix to be tied into Rory and Marty's story, I figured there was no need to kill off this tough broad.

* * *

Rory had quarantined herself in her dorm to prepare for mid-terms. She went out for the last few classes, of course, but ate in her room and avoided most of her relaxing and fun. This included the majority of her hangout time with Marty. Instead, Rory was spending a lot more time with Paris, who had restricted herself to the same studying quarantine.

During a pizza break one night, they chatted about plans for spring break. Neither had any since Marty was going on a trip with his family, Lorelai was busy with the inn, and Asher was spending the break with his children and grandchildren.

"I feel so old," Paris groused. "College is supposed to be when you go to Cancun or Palm Springs and have that iconic crazy time. I know this sounds stupid, but I don't really want to miss out on that tradition even though I know I wouldn't actually have fun."

"What do you mean you wouldn't have fun?"

"Rory, please. Paris Geller, doing body shots with strangers or flashing people at a bar? Can you really picture that in your head?"

"Thankfully, no. Spring break doesn't have to be a _Girls Gone Wild_ video, you know. You can still have fun and not be one of the crazies."

"Yes, instead I will be the wall flower watching the crazies have all the fun because they're single and uninhibited."

"What if you weren't the only inhibited, non-single wall flower?" Rory suggested. Paris gave her an unsure look, indicating she suspected what Rory meant. "Come on, it'll be fun."

"Really? Are you sure?"

"Why not? We are two craaaaazy gals," she said, shimmying awkwardly with her arms out to the side.

"No, we're not," Paris corrected.

"No, we're not," Rory agreed, bringing her hands in with a laugh. "But I bet we'll still have fun."

"Okay," Paris said a little doubtfully. Then she looked up and gave a more enthusiastic, "Okay!"

* * *

"You're what?"

"You heard me," Rory insisted.

"Yes, I heard the words. That doesn't mean I fully comprehend what you're trying to tell me," Marty clarified.

"What's so hard to comprehend?"

"Okay first of all, I just don't see you as a Spring Break kind of girl. Second, the same goes for Paris only infinitely more so. I'm trying to picture it, but no. It's just blank."

Gazing up into Marty's eyes with an overly coy look, Rory asked, "Really? You mean you can't picture me, in a bikini, stretched out on a towel, glistening with sun tan lotion and sweat?"

He just stared at her with his lips parted before he realized he wasn't breathing. Inhaling deeply, Marty smiled and said in a low voice, "Well, yes and no. I can picture it. It just doesn't seem real." Snapping back to reality and his regular tone, he asked, "Do you even _own_ a bikini?"

"No," Rory sulked, her frown quickly becoming a smile as a thought occurred to her. "Do you want me to get one?"

"Do I want you to buy a sexy, revealing bathing suit for you to wear around a bunch of half-dressed men, none of whom will be me? Hmmm, _hmmm_."

She faked a sigh and breathily said, "Oh, all right. Too bad, though. It would have been fun shopping for one with you." Marty stuttered a few half-words in protest, but Rory playfully cut him off. "No, no, you've made your point clear. I will make sure I never buy a bikini," she teased.

Marty pulled her close and murmured, "Well, I hope it's not never."

Rory smiled in his arms, then looked at him seriously. "Marty? Bikini or no bikini, are you worried about me going on this trip?"

"I'm not worried, exactly. I can't say I'm _excited_ that I won't be there and hundreds of other guys will be."

"Thousands," she corrected with a smirk.

"Wait, thousands?!" Marty yelped in mock-panic. He smiled down at her when he said, "Well, then I definitely don't want you to go. What if you decide to upgrade?"

If she had only heard his voice, Rory would have played along with the joke. Looking deep in his eyes, though, she caught a glimpse of his insecurities. "Marty," she whispered, holding his neck with one hand and stroking his hair soothingly with the other. "There is no upgrading from you."

Rory felt him melt in her hands, his head dropping so their foreheads touched. Marty closed his eyes as their bodies molded together, and he whispered, "God, I hope you never realize how wrong you are."

His kisses were a mixture of desperation, gratitude, and passion. Rory's head spun, overwhelmed by the emotion that was passing between them, yet giving into it at the same time.

* * *

"We're here!" Rory announced into her phone as she carried her bags to the bed that Paris hadn't claimed. "And I'll have you know, not one person has hit on me yet."

"Really? Not even the bellhop?" Marty teased.

"Not the bellhop, not the taxi driver, not the goons in the elevator. So HA, Mister 'You'll get hit on 7 times before you even reach your room.'"

"You probably weren't paying close enough attention. I guess this means I shouldn't flaunt that Miss Bertha, the 72 year-old inn owner, has been trying to make a move on me since we showed up?"

"Uh! That hussy! Am I going to have to come up there and claw her eyes out?"

Marty let out a deep belly laugh. "Oh, I would pay to see that."

"You'll let me know if I have anything to worry about?"

"I will do that."

"Good. Well, I'm getting the impatient look from Paris. I'll call you tomorrow night?"

"I'll be looking forward to it."

"Goodnight, Marty."

"Goodnight."

They called each other every night to share their day and say goodnight. Though they missed each other, the nightly calls made it easier to feel like they were just catching up after a day of separate classes.

"Guess what," Rory said in the middle of their conversation one night.

"What's that?"

"We ran into some old high school friends at the beach."

_Please be girls, please be girls, please be girls_, Marty chanted in his head. To her, he simply said, "Oh yeah?"

"Yeah. It was completely random, too. If they hadn't noticed us, I doubt we would have noticed them. They would have just whizzed past us on the lifeguard truck."

_They're lifeguards?!_ "How lucky."

"I know. They hung out with us at the beach, and then at the pool. Tomorrow, we're all going to a club together."

"That's nice," Marty said, waiting for a name or a gender specific pronoun.

"Yeah, and they've barely changed at all. They still flirt like crazy. It's actually kind of hilarious and sad at the same time."

For a moment, Marty imagined guys who had crushes on Rory throughout high school, who were turned down over and over again but never gave up and were now chiseled, handsome specimens. Distracted, he just vaguely said, "That should be fun."

"Hunh?"

"Wait, what?" Marty asked, shaking himself out of his unpleasant reverie.

"Were you even listening?" Rory teased.

"Yeah, you were telling me about how your friends were flirting with you guys."

Rory let out a peal of laughter. "What? No. Why in the world would Madeline and Louise flirt with us?"

_Madeline and Louise! Oh, thank God._ "Oh, no, I don't mean with you, like at you. I meant with you, like along with you."

"Marty," she lightly scolded, not catching his real misunderstanding. "You know I'm not flirting with anybody except when I'm on the phone with you."

"Yes, I know."

"Speaking of, has Miss Bertha won your heart yet?"

"Almost," Marty teased.

"Uh! How in the world am I supposed to compete with her!" she cried indignantly.

"Oh, I miss you, Rory," he laughed adoringly.

"I miss you too, Marty."

* * *

"Hello?"

"Where are you?!" a shrill voice demanded on the other end of the call.

Marty's face broke into a wide grin at the sound of his girlfriend's voice, despite its current agitated tone. "I'm sorry, was there a hello in there?"

"Hello. Now where are you, Marty?" Though the shrill was gone, the urgency was still there.

"Where else? I'm at Yale."

"Yes, I know that much. You told me you were back last night. But _where_ are you?"

"Rory, you aren't turning into one of those crazy possessive girlfriends who has to know exactly where her man is at all times, are you? You know I was just kidding about Miss Bertha. I mean, not kidding-kidding, she exists and all, but as far as her actually having any kind of a chance goes…."

"Marty! Don't make me ask you again."

"I'm on my way to the coffee cart before heading over to the library to check out some books. I figured I'd beat the rush before everyone else came back, not that there's actually a rush of post Spring Break students clamoring for the library, but I try to ignore that reality so I don't feel so nerdy. Why do you ask?"

"Because. I dumped my bags in my room and ran up to yours. You weren't there, so I went back to my room to wait. Turns out I was too excited to wait, so I…."

"Wait, wait, wait, you're here? You're back?" Marty stopped in his tracks, bailing on his plans for coffee and books.

"Yes, I'm back," Rory said, sounding out of breath.

"Really? Where are you?" He began speed walking back to Durfee, cutting through the Student Center. It was a more direct path to their dorm. However, Marty forgot to account for navigating around the students in the halls. There weren't a lot of people, they were just agonizingly slow so he had to dart around them.

"Should I make you ask me two more times before I answer?" she teased.

"WhereareyouWhereareyou?" Marty begged shamelessly and happily.

"I'm on my way to the coffee cart to find you," Rory laughed.

"Cut through the Student Center. That's where I am now. I thought you weren't coming back until tomorrow."

"I wasn't. We decided to change our plans. I wanted to surprise you. Clearly, that didn't work. It's all anti-climactic now," she pouted.

"Trust me, Rory, I'm in a mega-climactic surprised state right now."

"Wait, I see you! I see you!"

"What? Where? Rory?" He glanced down at his phone and saw 'call ended'. Just as Marty was looking up again, he saw Rory bounding into his arms. He caught her in a hug and spun her around. "I've missed you so much," Marty gushed, feeling their hearts pounding together from their respective jogs.

"I've missed you too."

He set her down and started to lean in for a kiss, but Rory placed her hands on his chest and held herself away from him.

"Marty, wait. I have to confess something first."

Her somber expression was exaggerated, so Marty was pretty sure she was going to make some joke. Catching his breath, he played along, and with a mock-serious look on his face Marty asked, "Oh no, what is it?"

Rory closed her eyes and took a deep, animated breath before looking back up at him. "When I was in Palm Springs, someone kissed me."

This threw him, and he broke character. Confusion was written all over Marty's face. _Wait, what? She has to be kidding._ "Seriously?" he asked incredulously.

"Seriously," she insisted, but her over-regretful face told Marty something about this wasn't completely on the level.

He eyed her suspiciously. _Okay … There has to be some explanation. Maybe some friendly store vendor gave her a kiss on the cheek._ Thinking he had her figured out, Marty put his mock-concerned face back on and asked faux-indignantly, "On the lips?"

"On the lips," Rory confirmed.

Marty was so stunned by this that he didn't see the laughter bubbling up in her eyes. "Who was he?" he asked sincerely, cocking his head to one side.

"It wasn't a he," she managed to get out before she had to bite her lips together to keep from laughing.

His eyebrows shot up with this twist. "Wait, it was a girl?"

Rory nodded mutely, barely able to keep from sputtering out a fit of giggles.

Marty smiled a bit in spite of himself. "Okay, who was _she_?" he asked, intrigued.

"Paris."

His face fell immediately. "Paris?" Marty's annoyed tone clearly conveyed the silent 'are you kidding me?'

"Yes, Paris." Rory's voice was lofty, as if being kissed by Paris were an everyday occurrence. "Ooo, hey, let's go check out the new student art." She grabbed his hand and started to turn him toward one of the exits.

For a couple steps, Marty stumbled after her in a daze before he resisted her pull and brought her back to him. "No-no-no-no-no. You don't get to drop a bomb like that and then just change the subject. Explanation, please!"

Rory told him about Paris' desperation to have a typical spring break experience, and about how Madeline and Louise would kiss to get into a bar or to get free drinks. Then she told him how out of nowhere, Paris just kissed her on the dance floor, and the bizarre conversation they had afterward.

Marty jostled his head, trying to regain his senses. "Do I get to kiss you now? Or do I have to get that cleared by Paris?" She smiled and didn't lean away this time when he bent down to her. He tasted salt, like the beach air was embedded in her, even in her tongue. Putting his arm around her, Marty resumed their stroll.

"I'm sorry I cheated on you," Rory said with a smile, giving his waist a squeeze.

"You're forgiven," he said, returning the squeeze. "You know what sucks, though?" She looked up at him quizzically. "That fantasy is completely ruined for me now," Marty announced, sweeping his arm in front of them.

Rory rolled her eyes and shook her head as they approached the Fine Arts Building.


	23. The Cool Kids

**AN**: printf("hello, world");

Yes! Your eyes are not deceiving you. After falling off the face of the planet, I have indeed climbed back onto it and figured I should greet said planet accordingly.

My apologies for the LONG delay between chapters. I assure you it was not a case of writer's block, a missing muse, or a disinterest in carrying on the story. It was a combination of life (some good things, some sad, because that's the way life goes) and a difficult chapter that needed to be re-written several times.

Special thanks go to my beta, Jewels12, and two reviewers, bdevils76 and smu98ls, for encouraging and coaxing me to come back and play. And then I need to thank my beta a second time because she combed through a second draft for me. *squishy hug for jewels!*

Here's hoping you enjoy the latest installment and that I'll be back on a more regular posting schedule again!

* * *

"Are we losers?"

"Speak for yourself, m'dear," Marty snarked, not taking his eyes off his computer.

"No, seriously," Rory insisted. "It's Saturday night, a night when most people in our demographic are out at a movie or a club, and here we are, studying the night away in your room."

"Oh, so my room is the definition of the loser hang out, huh?" he said, looking up and pretending to be offended.

"You know that's not what I meant."

"No, Rory, we're not losers. We're just ambitious nerds."

"Yes, because that is so much better."

"It is. We're here by choice, not because we have no friends to go out with. Besides, the more we study tonight, the later we'll sleep in tomorrow, and then we'll be just like the cool kids."

"Mmm, I suppose."

Later on they were sitting on his bed, his arm around her, reading books from their respective classes. Rory looked at the clock and saw it was approaching 1:00 AM. Her eyes glazed over as her thoughts drifted from school work to some recent events.

Shortly after they returned from break, they began lingering together longer and longer, neither one wanting to bring the night to an end. They were down in her room the first time Rory had noticed it, and between kisses she wondered if that meant Marty was hoping he could stay over. She'd freaked out briefly, nervous about what expectations he had, then quickly relaxed. This was Marty. Marty, who took hours to kiss her and days to make his way under her shirt. Rory knew better than to think he might be rushing anything.

Sometimes when they were kissing their goodbyes in his room, it seemed like Marty was on the verge of asking her … not necessarily to stay over, because Carl would be coming home, but definitely _some_thing. However, he always backed down and just said good night. Rory's curiosity finally reached the point where she decided to take a stab at inviting him over.

_They had been fooling around on her bed for a good while, books lying by the wayside._

_"Hey, Marty?" Rory mumbled against his lips._

_"Mmm?" he hummed, moving his kisses to her jaw so she could talk._

_"Um, so Paris is staying at Asher's tonight."_

_Marty pulled away and playfully scowled at her. "Thank you for that mental picture."_

_"Yes, well, misery loves company. The point is, you can … stay__."_

_"Oh." Marty hesitated, studying her face. "Uh, not tonight, okay?"_

_"Oh, sure," she said, trying not to show how much he had thrown her off._

_"__I mean, I want to, just not tonight," he reassured her._

_"__Yeah, that's fine."_

_And it __**was**__ fine. She didn't want to make a big deal out of it, but the thing was, it __**had**__ been a big deal. Rory had never invited a boy to sleep over in her room. It surprised her how disappointed she was by the outcome. Still, she decided to be patient, leaving the ball in his court._

Rory turned away from the clock, put her book down, and faced Marty. He paused in his reading to smile at her.

"Why haven't you asked me to stay over?" she blurted. _So much for patience__._

Marty laughed and shook his head at her. "Wow, you really are a journalist. When you get on a topic you get right to the point."

"You haven't answered the question."

"And you won't accept a deflective response either."

"I mean it," Rory persisted. "When I asked you to stay over, you said 'not tonight' which implies you have some criteria for when it would be okay to, so I'm trying to wait until _you_ ask _me_ over, but you haven't yet, even though Carl's away at a meet, and I'd just like to know why." She gulped down a deep breath at the end of her explanation.

"It's not exactly criteria, it's just that…." Marty's hand fidgeted on her arm while he hesitated. He closed his eyes for a moment then looked into hers. "I have no idea how this goes, okay? I mean, I know a sleepover is just a sleepover, but I don't want us to misread each other in the middle of the sleepover and have something go horribly wrong. So even though I don't really have to ask because I already know the answer, before either one of us stayed over I felt like I _had_ to ask."

"Ask what?"

One side of Marty's lip pinched in, indicating he was biting the inside. "We're not ready for sex yet, right?"

There were so many ways a boy could say that to a girl. An asshole might coat the "we're" in sarcasm, making it clear he was ready and resented the fact that she wasn't. A manipulator might say it without masking his lust, using the proper words but still trying to seduce her into changing her mind. Even a nice guy might accidentally give that cautious glance afterward that showed he really meant, "I'm ready, but I'll wait until you're ready. Are you ready? No? Okay, then. How about now?"

But Marty said it so earnestly that Rory knew he meant every word, including the most important one. 'We' didn't mean 'you.' 'We' actually meant 'we.'

"No, we're not," she agreed quietly. "I still don't understand something, though. I mean, I see why you didn't take me up on my invite, and I get why you didn't ask me over. But why didn't you ask me about being ready earlier?"

"Not really the easiest question to ask," Marty said with a wry smile. "Besides, the times when it came up, we were always in the middle of some sort of make-out session."

He raised a good point, but still she wasn't entirely sure what he was getting at. "I don't follow."

Marty appeared to be drowning in embarrassment, but he collected himself. "When we're fooling around, we both get pretty torqued up, so I didn't know how much that would influence your answer. I wouldn't want us to get carried away by the hormone overdrive or risk any regrets in the morning."

Rory rested her head on his shoulder. "Thank you," she said simply.

"For what?"

"For letting me know all that. For being such a gentleman."

There was a long pause while they just held each other. Eventually, Marty cleared his throat. "So…."

Relieved that the wait was finally over, Rory lifted her head and regarded him with an amused glint in her eye. "So…." she echoed.

Marty rolled his eyes at being forced to complete the formality. "Ms. Gilmore, would you care to sleep here tonight?" he asked with exaggerated social grace, sweeping his arm around the room grandly.

"Oh, I'd love to, darling," Rory said in the same tone. "But I'm afraid I can't," she added with a playful pout.

"And what, may I ask, seems to be the problem?"

She shrugged, lifting one palm helplessly. "I haven't any pajamas here."

"Oh, that's no problem," Marty laughed, breaking character and attacking her neck with his lips.

Rory giggled as she fought off her body's reflex to pull away from the tickling sensations. He wrapped one arm around her waist and fell onto his pillow, pulling her down on top of him. Marty's kisses gradually became less silly and more deliberate, working their way along her jaw and up to her mouth. His tongue slowly caressed hers, and Rory felt like she was melting against him.

With a sigh, Marty pulled his lips from hers and smoothed her cheek with his thumb. "Stay with me," he whispered.

Rory settled herself onto her side next to him and pretended to consider it. "Well, I suppose I could find a t-shirt to borrow." She enjoyed watching Marty try to regain his composure from the image she put in his head. "You certainly took your grand old time asking, though."

"You say that like I know what I'm doing," he laughed.

"I don't really know what I'm doing, either," Rory admitted in a conspiratorial whisper.

Between kisses, Marty murmured, "So, I guess I'm going to have to find you a t-shirt."

Rory smiled against him and slid her hands along his chest. "This one'll do."

She tucked a hand under the hem of his shirt and worked it up his torso. Marty pulled his arms through, and they broke their kiss to pull the shirt over his head. Rory's hand continued skimming over his chest while their tongues continued their slow dance.

Eventually she pulled away, wagging his t-shirt at him. "I should change. You stay there," Rory said and stood up beside the bed. Marty rolled to his side and propped himself up on his elbow, watching her with a bemused expression.

Rory tossed the shirt over a bedpost then proceeded to unbutton and unzip her jeans. As she folded open her fly, she exposed a little bit of pink fabric before she turned around. Rory wiggled back and forth, working her way out of her jeans. They slid over her round cheeks and down to her knees. She stepped one leg out, kicked them off her other leg, and faced him again.

"Rory, you can't do that in front of me and expect me to keep my hands to myself."

She didn't protest when Marty reached out and pulled her down. Instead, Rory let out a little squeal of laughter when he rolled her over him onto the far side of the bed.

While kissing her, Marty began unbuttoning her shirt slowly. The last button popped under his fingertips, allowing Marty to slowly fold her shirt open on each side. Rory sighed contentedly at how nice his skin felt against hers. He brought his hand up to her neck, grazed it along her throat between the valley of her breasts, and undid her clasp. Like with her shirt, Marty folded each side of her bra away. Pulling back, he gazed down the length of her body. Other than the clothes draped off her shoulders and the pink panties, she lay fully exposed before him.

"Are you checking me out?" Rory teased, pretending she wasn't as self-conscious as she felt.

His expression was one of serious wonderment. "You have no idea how incredible you are, do you?"

She smiled at the compliment but only answered, "I have an idea of how incredible _you _think I am."

Leaning in for another kiss, Marty whispered, "That I do."

He brought his hand up to the right side of her neck again and slid his fingertips to her throat and down her cleavage, only this time, Marty didn't stop there. He brought his hand around and circled her right breast, spiraling inward so his fingers brushed over her nipple.

Marty pulled his mouth from hers and nuzzled into her neck below her left ear. Mirroring the path his fingers had just taken, his soft lips skimmed over her skin, his warm breath leaving a trail behind them. When he swept around her, sometimes Marty's cheek, chin, or nose would graze her nipple.

He moved up to her right ear and gave her a light, soft kiss just behind it. It sent a small wave of tingles out across Rory's skin. Marty continued kissing her every inch or so, once again following the same trail on her body. When he reached her nipple, Marty pressed a light kiss to the tip of it.

Rory pedaled her legs against the sheets, overcome with how he was caressing her. He'd felt her up plenty of times by now and had even snuck a kiss low on her chest once or twice, but never to the extent that buttons were actually undone or shirts were lifted.

Marty approached the left side of her neck again, causing her fingers to dig into him urgently. This time when he kissed her, his tongue touched Rory's skin briefly, followed closely by his lips closing on her. Marty continued leaving a moist, dotted trail down and around her breast. Her breath caught in her throat at the touch of his warm, soft, tender tongue on her nipple, which disappeared a moment later when his lips closed over her.

She became impatient to kiss him again and tugged him up to her mouth once he had released her pink tip. Marty only kissed her twice then pulled away to whisper, "I'm not done yet."

She whimpered, torn between wanting to keep kissing him and wanting to know what he still had in mind. This time when Marty brought his mouth to her neck, he applied the slightest bit of suction to her skin at the end of the kiss.

Realizing where this was going, Rory breathed, "Oh my God," into his ear as he moved on. When Marty reached her nipple and sucked on it slightly, her body arched and her head pushed into the pillow, pressing her breast against his mouth. This time he lingered there, increasing his suction, circling his tongue around her perky nub between pulls.

When he pulled away, Rory collapsed onto the bed, regaining her strength while he started over at her left ear. She tingled with breathless anticipation until Marty's mouth arrived at her left nipple, and her body pressed up to him again. He stayed even longer on this side, and she thought her back was going to cramp up.

Marty crawled up to kiss her again, leaning his chest on hers. She could feel both the hard bulge in his jeans against her hip and her own frenzied desire mounting. Rory clung to him and pushed her mouth hard against his. The tension finally broke with a lip-popping release, allowing Rory to relax into the pillow and catch her breath. Their kisses became calmer as their bodies settled down, drowsiness starting to overtake them both.

"Where in the world did you learn how to do that?" she panted.

He just shrugged shyly in response.

"No, seriously, because that was amazing."

Marty watched his fingers stroke her hair. "Well, from you, basically."

"Me?"

"Well, yeah. That first time, when you moved my hand, you pretty clearly let me know what you liked. And since then, you make enough noise and stuff that I think I've figured some things out, even without your explicit guidance."

"I'm not noisy," Rory objected defensively.

"I didn't say you were." He chuckled, but didn't technically agree that she wasn't. "And maybe..." Marty whispered shyly as he nuzzled into her neck. "Maybe sometimes at night, when I'm lying bed, I might think about things I'd like to do to you … and think of ways to do them so that you'll enjoy it."

Rory closed her eyes and felt her concentration slip away, enjoying the pleasant sensations his tongue and lips were creating. She wasn't sure how long it took her to remember they had been having a conversation. Pulling her neck away from him, Rory looked into his eyes. "Well, I definitely enjoyed that."

"Really? I hadn't noticed," Marty teased, smiling down at her.

He sat up next to Rory and helped her into a sitting position so that they were facing each other. Kissing her, Marty cupped his hands on either side of her jaw, slid them over her neck and along her shoulders, and pushed her bra and shirt down her arms. He leaned back and stretched out on his bed to grab the t-shirt off the bedpost. Rory slipped it on, practically swimming in all the extra material.

Marty stood up and admired her. "I have to say, I'm really looking forward to wearing that shirt again," he announced.

Rory smiled slyly at him. "Me too." She rolled herself onto all fours to push the bedding out of the way so she could crawl in. Rory was well aware that his shirt didn't completely cover her panties in this position, and when she flipped over again in the bed, she was pleased to see he had been aware of it too.

Shaking his head out of the trance, Marty gave her a lopsided smile. "I'm going to take out my contacts. I'll be right back."

As she waited for him, Rory wondered what else he thought about while he lay where she was now. What other things did he think about doing with her? Did he think about things he wanted her to do to him? Rory smiled to herself, knowing what was going to be on her mind for many nights to come.

Marty returned from the bathroom, dropped his items on the desk, and stopped in front of the bed. Looking at her with a playfully pointed expression on his face, he started unbuttoning his jeans then unzipping them. When he folded his fly open and turned around, Rory laughed, enjoying the imitation. He did an exaggerated wiggle and slid them over his rear.

After kicking off his jeans, Marty stepped into some PJ pants and crawled in beside her. They lay face to face, each with an arm around the other.

"I'm glad you stayed," Marty whispered while nuzzling her nose with his.

"Me too," she purred.

"Goodnight, Rory." He tilted his chin and gave her a light kiss.

"Goodnight." She sighed happily, giving him another light kiss and a one armed hug. Rory wriggled onto her opposite side, then burrowed backwards into his body.

Marty brought his hand under the covers to her bare thigh, slid it under her shirt and over the side of her panties, and glided it diagonally across her belly. When he cupped Rory's breast, he swept his thumb back and forth, from cleavage to nipple.

"Sweet dreams," he whispered in her ear.

She turned her head to him and whispered, "Sweet dreams," giving him one last kiss goodnight.

* * *

Rory stirred and slowly became aware of the hand that hung limply around her breast. She smiled to herself, enjoying the realization of where she was. Rory stifled a giggle when she noticed the hard lump that was hovering behind her tailbone.

She lay still, not wanting to disturb him. Soon enough, though, she felt his hand twitch, indicating he was in that pre-awake state. Rory grinned broadly as she sensed Marty reaching consciousness through his hand – his fingertips touched her tentatively, seemingly confused, his hand cupped her gently, finally aware of reality, then his thumb started to brush her skin before coming to a halt, restraining itself.

"I'm already awake," she murmured.

"Oh, thank God," Marty moaned and immediately squeezed her flesh, burrowing his face into her neck.

Rory laughed, appreciating his enthusiasm. "And a good morning to you, too," she said and wiggled herself against him, indicating the hardness she had noticed earlier.

He slinked away from her coyly.

"I told you to have sweet dreams, not naughty dreams," Rory teased while she rolled over to face him.

"It's not what you think," Marty tried to explain.

She caught the distress in his voice and dropped the levity. "It's okay that you did, you know. I mean, it only makes sense."

"Honestly, Rory, I really didn't," Marty said, giving her an apologetic half-smile. "It's not that kind of a hard-on."

Rory pinched her eyebrows, slightly disbelieving. "There's more than one kind?"

He pressed his face into his pillow and cringed a little. "This is going to be a very un-sexy start to an otherwise very sexy morning." She watched him expectantly, waiting for him to clarify. "When you're awake and have to pee, you hold it by clenching certain muscles, right? But when you're asleep you can't clench those muscles, so your body finds a way to do it for you." Facing her again, Marty shrugged. "It just means I have to pee."

"Wait, how come that doesn't happen to me?"

"I don't know. Maybe it does, but it's just a lot less noticeable."

"Oh … Wow, we should have sleepovers more often. They're fun _and_ educational."

"Well, I can't argue with that. I'll be right back." He gave her a quick kiss then rolled out of bed. Stepping into his flip-flops, Marty adjusted the waistbands of his boxers and pants to make his situation a little less noticeable during the walk to the bathroom. When he returned, he crawled into bed and settled in so they were lying face to face again. "I can't imagine a better way to wake up than next to you."

"Funny, I have the same dilemma," she joked, as if this was actually a problem.

Their tongues danced, and Marty's free hand skimmed under her "borrowed" shirt to pull her into a warm embrace. Rory returned the squeeze with a slight degree of desperation in her intensity, clasping their bodies together. He hitched up the hem of the shirt a little so that their stomachs were pressed skin to skin. After a moment, Rory pushed away from him so she had room to work the shirt over her head. She quickly pulled him close to her again, molding her bare chest to his. Marty moaned into her lips. His body tensed and he straightened it out, pressing his groin against her thigh.

Her eyes flew open in surprise. "Marty!" She wasn't expecting such a strong response so quickly. Rory smiled and pretended to be confused. "Do you have to pee again?"

"Nope." Marty grinned. "This one is all you."

She snaked a hand under both waistbands, squeezing one of his cheeks to press their bodies closer. Marty hummed a soft laugh against her kiss.

"What's so funny?" Rory asked.

"Just tickled a little … Aaand I've never had someone squeeze my butt."

Rory bit her lip, hesitating out of habit. Then she remembered that Marty had already cleared the air, so she didn't have to worry about any implications. "Wanna know what I've never squeezed?" she whispered, sliding her hand around his hip.

"Holy…." he mumbled, sucking in a breath when her fingers closed around him.

She marveled at how warm he was, fascinated by the pulse throbbing against her palm. While her curious digits alternated their pressure, sending a rolling wave along his hard flesh, Rory watched his face. Marty's eyes were screwed up tight in concentration, and as far as she could tell he hadn't exhaled yet.

"Breathe," she reminded him.

Marty nodded and let out a controlled breath, but his eyes remained clenched.

Rory loosened her grip and lightly grazed her fingertips up and down his length. "Your skin is really soft," she murmured.

A soft chuckle escaped Marty's lips, eliciting a smile that chased away the tension in his face. "Thanks?" he asked, peeking one eye open at her.

"You're welcome." She smiled, happy to see Marty relaxing a little. Her fingers explored some more, brushing over his tip. "Oh!" Rory yelped when it jumped under her touch.

Marty inhaled with a hiss, and his warm brown eyes disappeared briefly. "Careful," he choked out, wrapping his fingers around her wrist to freeze her in place.

"That hurt?" Rory asked. Her hand stilled and hovered awkwardly inside his pants, her voice rising with surprised concern.

"Definitely not," he said emphatically, smiling as he corrected her misunderstanding. "No, that felt nice. _Really_ nice, but also too nice."

"I don't understand. You just spent the better part of last night driving me crazy – in a good way," she quickly clarified. "Why can't I drive you crazy?"

"You can, and you do. God, do you ever." Marty sighed, giving her a reassuring kiss. "Look, I may be a gentleman, but I'm no saint. If you keep that up…." he trailed off, shaking his head at his imagined consequences.

Rory glanced down. He was still restraining her, but hadn't actually extracted her hand. His words were warning her to stop while his eyes were begging her to continue. Rory felt like he was sending her mixed signals and didn't know which to follow. She needed him to tell her what he wanted. "So I should stop."

"Nooo," Marty said with a slight pout. "Just, maybe, take it easy? For now."

Relieved to be on the same page again, Rory flashed him a wide grin. Once he released her, she moved her fingers back to a less sensitive area and placed a light kiss on Marty's lips. "I think I can manage that."

"Good," he whispered, dipping his head to Rory again. Marty's lips vibrated against hers from the pleasant hums and sighs her caresses were eliciting. At one point, Marty laughed quietly and asked, "So, do you think this is what the cool kids are doing?"

Rory forced a straight face. "Oh, definitely."


	24. Just Say No

**AN**: Hello, hello! I bet you thought it was going to be another 4 months before there was another chapter. Well, you thought wrong! Many thanks to my gleeful beta, Jewels12, for squeezing this in between school work. Enjoy!

* * *

_When she asks, just say no. You can do it. Repeat after me: "Not tonight. I'm going to study."_

Rory had been telling him about some family drama during their walk home from dinner on Sunday night. Something about her mom's boyfriend, her grandpa's company, and a private investigator … Marty wasn't really sure. He was having trouble paying attention since he was preoccupied. As they approached Durfee, she had changed topics and was babbling about watching Goonies, excited that she had found a DIVX that included the super cheesy octopus attack.

_Not tonight. I'm going to study._

"I mean, it's actually part of the movie, not separated in a deleted scenes section. So what do you think? Do you wanna come in and watch it?" Rory asked, just like he predicted.

_Not tonight. I'm going to study._

"Yeah, that sounds good," Marty heard himself say.

_Dammit!_

While they cuddled on the couch, Marty stared at the screen, not laughing much. He was mentally walking through his week in search of more study time, too worried to pay attention to the movie. Meals couldn't be missed because he had to eat, and plus she'd notice. Skipping class would be counterproductive since he'd be falling behind while he was trying to catch up. He'd already stopped working on Friday nights, which would be worth the added stress of seeing his cash dwindle if that were all the extra time he needed. Unfortunately, it wasn't. That left only three possibilities: his existing study time which was obviously a wash, his hang out time with Rory which he seemed incapable of turning down, and sleep.

_It was nice knowing you, Sleep._

* * *

He slid his fingertips under his glasses and rubbed his dry eyes. Returning to his book, Marty searched for the spot where he left off. He moved his elbow to a better location on the mess covering his desk and fisted his hand into his hair to help support his weary head. Periodically, he checked his notes to make sure his handwriting was still legible.

When his cell phone started vibrating, Marty closed his eyes to wait it out. He didn't even glance at the screen since he knew exactly who it was. With a heavy sigh, he opened his eyes when the buzzing stopped and resumed his note taking, grateful that Carl wasn't home to ask what that was about.

Several minutes later, Marty heard his phone hum again. Without taking his eyes off the page in front of him, he slowly reached over and pressed a button to ignore the call.

With any luck, she'd leave him alone, thinking he'd turned in early. Not that Marty _wanted_ to be left alone. He just needed to be. It was obvious exactly what would happen if he answered. He knew he'd have to say no, but wouldn't actually be able to do it. His only chance was not answering –

The phone buzzed again. This time, Marty picked it up and stared at the four letters lit up on the screen.

_Don't you know I'm trying to study!_ he mentally shouted at it. Immediately his face scrunched up, regretting his silent outburst. _No, you don't know. Because I haven't told you._

Marty sucked in a breath and quickly flipped the phone open to avoid giving himself a chance to change his mind. "Hey."

"Oh, hey. There you are. I've been trying to call you," Rory chirped.

"Yeah, sorry, I was in the shower." His mouth twisted in a grimace, the lie leaving a bitter taste in his mouth.

"Well, I'm on my way back from Hartford. My mom actually remembered that I asked to borrow Flashdance, so – score! I passed 691 a little while ago, so I'll see you in about ten minutes?"

"Uh … yeah." _Dammit!_ "Not tonight, sorry," Marty amended. Now all he had to do was stay strong.

"Wait, what?" Rory asked, clearly confused.

"Not tonight. I'm beat, so I'm going to go bed in a minute." At least that time he only half lied.

"C'mon, it has leggings, and strip clubs, and ballet in a museum poorly disguised as a performance hall. And we both know what a ballet fanatic you are now. Just sleep in later tomorrow."

"Not tonight, okay, Rory?"

"But–"

"God! How many times do I have to say 'not tonight'?" Though he wasn't yelling, Marty knew he had never raised his voice to her like that before. He held his breath and waited for her response. When he heard the sound of falling chimes, Marty didn't even bother checking to see the 'Call Ended' message on his screen. He flipped the phone closed and gripped it tightly in one hand. Marty then propped his head on his hands, pressing both heels into his forehead. The tension in his body squeezed his arms in so that his elbows were close together.

As Marty bent forward over his desk, his nails scraped along the top of his head until his forehead rested in the crook of his arms, cradling his head protectively. "Shit," he whispered into the small, dark cave he had created. "_Shit!_" Marty shouted, sitting up and throwing the phone onto his bed. It bounced off and clattered to the ground somewhere near the mini fridge.

_Why did you do that?_ Marty scolded himself. His eyes were stinging, but not from dryness anymore. _Forget it. You wanted to be left alone to study, so study, dammit._

Clenching his jaw, he glared at the book, scribbling notes in an angry fervor.

A few minutes later, there was a deliberately calm knock on his door. Marty hung his head briefly before standing up to answer it.

Without waiting for a word of greeting, Rory briskly stepped into the room and shut the door behind her. Marty could tell she was ticked, however her expression also appeared open and ready to hear an explanation. "You wanna tell me what that was all–" Rory stopped short, her gaze lifting to his rumpled hair. Her eyebrows were pinched in confusion when she locked her eyes on to his again. "Your hair is dry. What's going on, Marty?"

He bit the inside of his lip, not wanting to have to verify his obvious lie.

"Were you ignoring my calls?" Her tone wasn't accusatory or even hurt. In fact, Rory sounded like she was embarrassed to be asking such a ridiculous question.

Marty didn't respond. He let his guilty silence speak for itself.

"I don't understand."

"Can we talk about this tomorrow, please?" he asked wearily.

"Why can't we talk about this now?"

"Because." He closed his eyes, trying to keep calm.

"Because why?" she demanded.

"Because I don't have time!" Marty gritted out, squinting his eyes tightly to hold in the impending tidal wave. Finding he was no match for himself, Marty popped his eyes open, an uncharacteristic scowl burning from them. "I don't have time to watch Flashdance, or Goonies…." His index finger slapped each digit on his other hand as he counted off his frustrations and continued ranting. "…Or any of the other movies or TV shows you insisted on watching this week. I don't have time for–"

Rory leaned away from him, offended. "Insisted? I didn't insist."

"–this conversation. I don't have time to study–"

"You study practically every night!" she said, flailing her arms in exasperation.

"No, Rory, I study _every_ night," he corrected, jabbing a finger toward the floor. "All I do, all night, is study."

"What?" Rory asked softly. Marty was too busy ranting to notice her voice had lost its edge.

"And if I'm _really_ lucky, I might get a whole two hours of sleep," he griped with sarcastic glee.

"How long–"

"Not tonight, though," Marty grumbled bitterly. "Tonight I need to have this argument first, because apparently we can't talk about this tomorrow," he finished with a huff.

Rory stared at him, her face a mixture of anger, concern, and confusion. "Fine," she said evenly. "We'll talk about this tomorrow. On one condition: that you go to sleep the minute I leave, and you don't wake up with an alarm. Deal?"

Her agreement disarmed him. Weakly, Marty tried to plead with her. "Rory, I have to–"

"Deal?" she cut in, her tone making it clear this wasn't open for discussion.

"Deal," he agreed in defeat.

After a quick glance at his desk, she stepped around him to snatch up the open book. Rory eyed him defiantly, silently daring Marty to try and take it away from her while she stalked out of the room.

When he woke up the next morning, Marty had a bit of a headache but otherwise felt like he had emerged from a deep hibernation. He put on his glasses and looked over to see Carl sleeping. Apparently, Marty had been so exhausted he didn't hear his roommate come home.

Sitting up, he spotted his phone lying on the ground, the battery a couple feet away from it. Marty groaned as the events from the previous evening came back to him.

Part of him wanted to curl up with the covers over his head for the rest of the day. The other part knew that wasn't an option. Rory was downstairs, waiting with restrained patience for him to wake up so they could talk, but she wouldn't restrain herself forever. Pushing away the blanket, he swung his feet to the floor. Marty tossed the phone and battery onto his desk, dropped his key into the pocket of his PJ pants, then stepped into his flip-flops.

Shortly after knocking on her door, he heard footsteps approaching. Marty always knew when they were hers. Normally they were light and quick, but before her coffee kicked in there was a soft brushing sound before each step from the way her heels dragged. The moment the door opened, he pulled her into a hug and buried his face in her hair. "I'm so sorry," Marty murmured sincerely.

Rory didn't say anything right away, rubbing his back comfortingly. Eventually, she slid her hand over the top of his shoulder, pulling gently to coax him out of the embrace. "Come on," she said softly, closing the door and taking his hand to lead him to her room. "I asked Paris for some privacy," Rory said, reassuring him they wouldn't be interrupted.

He sat on the edge of her bed while she closed her door. Leaning his elbows on his thighs, Marty clasped his hands and watched Rory over the top of his glasses as she stepped past him. She put one knee on the bed and sank down behind him. Wrapping her arms around his waist, Rory rested her cheek on his shoulder blade and waited. Marty knew she was wrestling between wanting to ask questions and wanting to let him decide where to begin.

"I'm failing." He felt her flinch in surprise.

"Failing what? How?" Rory asked, trying to process this information.

"European Lit." Marty paused in preparation for answering the 'how' part. "I guess technically it started when my mom had her accident. I slipped a little in everything, but I caught up for the most part when I returned. Except for Euro Lit. I was only a step or two behind, though, so I didn't think it was a problem."

He swallowed to give himself a moment to focus. Marty wanted to make sure he didn't make it seem like anything was her fault the way he had last night. "And when we began dating and hanging out more, it didn't seem like a big deal. We already spent so much time with each other, what was another hour here or there? I slipped a bit further, but it didn't seem like I was any worse off than I had been. Then everything just started spiraling."

Marty dropped his head and stared at a chunk of flip-flop that was about to break off. "The more we hung out, the farther behind I fell, and the farther behind I fell, the more I wanted to hang out. By the time my professor warned me I was circling the drain, I didn't know how to fight my way out."

"When did he tell you this?"

"About two weeks ago." He lifted his head and rested his chin on his hands.

"Why didn't you just say 'no' when I'd invite you over?"

"I tried. For a whole week, I kept coaching myself to say 'no thanks,' but every time I opened my mouth, I said 'okay.' Apparently, I'm not equipped to turn down spending time with you."

"Then why didn't you tell me to stop inviting you over?"

"Because then you'd know," Marty said with a sad smile. "So I kept trying to find other times to squeeze in more studying. The only time left was at night. I figured if I buckled down for a while, I'd pull myself out of this hole. Then I'd be able to revert to my normal routine and no one would have to know how close I came to screwing up."

"How long have you been skipping sleep?"

"Since Goonies."

"So a week?"

"Yes."

"Jeez, no wonder you snapped. Marty, why didn't you tell me? You know I went through the same sort of thing with Game Theory. You helped me realize I didn't need to freak out. Why didn't you let me do the same?"

"That was different."

"How was that different?"

"You still had the option to drop, then. I didn't have that option. And if I fail a class, I lose what little scholarship money they give me. My only option was to freak out … And then I wasn't thinking clearly due to the freaking out," he admitted.

"Why didn't I know this?" Rory whispered wistfully.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you."

"No, I mean, why didn't I know this? Why didn't I see that something was wrong? You hardly slept for a week, and I didn't notice?"

"I did my best to hide it from you," he answered sheepishly.

With a heavy sigh, Rory sat up, and they both shifted so they were angled toward each other. "I think we should take a break for a while."

"What? No. Rory, I don't want us to be on a break over this."

"Not, like, a commitment break. Just a break from spending time together. Look, you need to study. I've been meaning to focus on securing a summer internship. So we'll each do our thing, we'll get ourselves on track, and then we can ease into our routine again." She paused and eyed him cautiously. "I think you should try working alone as much as possible."

"I can't even study with you?" Marty couldn't keep the whining register out of his voice. Apparently he wasn't as caught up on sleep as he originally thought.

"Not until you're back in the zone."

"But you don't distract me the way the crew does," he reasoned shamelessly.

"I know. You still get distracted, though. You think I don't see you looking over at me?" Rory asked, a smile teasing the corners of her mouth.

"This is gonna suck so bad."

"Hasn't it already been sucking?" she pointed out, stroking his hair. "Now, what about studying while you eat?"

"I've considered it. It would take as long to buy my food and take it home, or wherever, as it would to stay there, eat, and hang out, wouldn't it?"

"Not if you had your very own personal delivery girl who will serve you anywhere on campus," she said with a Vanna White flourish of her hands. "Well, anywhere they allow food," Rory finished, shrugging as she put her hands down.

Marty couldn't stop himself from returning her smirk with a smile. "Will you wear a hat?"

"Depends on the hat."

"You don't seriously have to do that, you know." He hoped Rory could tell he wasn't referring to the hat anymore.

"I know. I'm not offering because I have to. Besides, you've catered for me plenty. It's about time I returned the favor."

He reached forward and hugged her again. "Thank you," he said simply. "And I'm still sorry, especially for the yelling and the lying."

"It's okay. I mean, it's not really okay, but I get it. I know it was actually the sleep deprivation talking. Just, please promise me you won't keep stuff like this to yourself again."

"I promise."

"Good," Rory said, heaving a final sigh when they pulled away from their embrace. She reached over to her nightstand and handed Marty his book. "Now, what would you like me to pick up for breakfast?"


	25. 157 Little Words

******AN**: Hello hello! Thanks so much to my beta, Jewels12! She's been so busy with school and, you know, having a life, yet she still finds time for my little story. Not only does she keep my writing in line, but she also cheers me on. As do you, gentle reader, with your positive reviews and various alerts. It's all great fuel to keep me going. I also want to give credit to Yvaughn for unintentionally influencing this chapter. Thanks everyone!

All right, I hope you guys enjoy the latest installment!

* * *

Rory knocked on the door and entered when Carl called out that the coast was clear. Marty glanced over and noticed she was empty handed.

"Where's my breakfast, woman?" he playfully demanded, tossing a pen across the desk.

She squinted her eyes in her best attempt at a withering stare. "Watch it, mister, or I might have second thoughts about letting you out."

"Out?" both boys asked, Marty clearly perking up at the prospect.

"Yes, out."

"As in…." Marty trailed off hopefully.

"As in you can grab your guitar, we'll hit the coffee cart together, and head over to the garden," Rory clarified.

Marty leaped out of his chair, frantically unzipping the case in the corner and loading his pockets.

"What's the occasion, Warden?" Carl asked. "Time off for good behavior?"

"Pretty much. I figured since his last paper was turned in on time and received an A, he deserved a little break."

"Isn't she the best?" Marty chimed in, hugging her tightly to his side.

Carl chuckled and shook his head, then smirked at Rory as if to say, 'I told you so.' She rolled her eyes in response as Marty added, "Now, let's go before you change your mind."

"Don't you want to put your contacts in?" she asked, laughing at what a hurry he was in.

"Nope. I'm not taking any chances. Letsgoletsgoletsgo!"

Once outside, Rory cast a few sidelong glances up at him.

"What?" Marty asked when he caught her.

"Nothing," she lied, a smile tugging at her lips as she remembered how it all began.

_It started off casually enough. It hadn't even been anything romantic. There had been a contact snafu and Marty showed up to class wearing his glasses. Though this wasn't the first time she'd seen him wear them, all the other instances had been when she stopped by his room in the morning or before he went to bed. For Rory, Marty's glasses went with pajamas and that was it. She had never seen him wear them when he was dressed and ready for the day._

_When he addressed her with a defensive yet playful "What?" Rory realized she had been staring at him. Not only that, but internally she had been gushing, and it must have shown on her face._

_"I just love how you look in your glasses, that's all. They're very cute on you__."_

_She watched Marty smile to himself while he settled into his seat. "I'm glad you like them so much," he whispered as the professor began her lecture._

_Turning to the front of the room, Rory raised her eyebrows, slightly surprised with herself. She was pretty sure that was the first time either of them had used the word 'love' in reference to the other. She glanced at Marty. If he had noticed, he didn't seem phased by it._

_"This should be weird. But it isn't weird. Is it weird that it isn't weird?" Rory wondered__._

_She smiled at her own ridiculousness and started scribbling away._

Thinking back on it now, Rory marveled at how easily and unconsciously that word had slipped out all on its own. The first time she said 'love' to a boy, it had taken a lot of effort. Rory had deliberated on it for a long time with Dean and never said it to Jess while they were dating. With Marty, it just came out.

"Oh man, there's a line," he groused, pulling Rory out of her thoughts as he gestured to the cart.

"There's always a line," she laughed. "You just haven't seen it in many days."

"I know. It just sucks that my few precious minutes of freedom are being wasted in line. It's like spending your vacation day sitting in traffic."

"Doesn't the fact that I'm here make it suck a little less?"

"Hmm," Marty pretended to consider. "I guess a _little_ less."

He stood behind her, wrapped his arms around her waist, and rubbed his face into the crook of her neck. Amid her soft laughter, Rory was again transported to a similar occurrence.

_A few days ago, Rory was waiting in line to reserve some books on her way out of the library. She was used to feeling Marty sneak up behind her, brush the hair off her shoulder, and give her a kiss on her neck. Rory smiled and twisted around in his arms to give him a proper kiss before he tucked himself away for the next couple hours._

_She purred slightly against his lips and murmured, "Mmm, I love the way you do that."_

_"Well, then, I'll make sure I never stop." Marty beamed down at her, looking mighty proud of himself._

_When she turned to the counter, Rory realized she'd done it again. And like the first time, it just flowed effortlessly._

"You didn't bring a book," Marty commented as they approached the garden. The sun poured down on them with a soft warmth, balancing out the cool breezes that carried the mixed scents of the spring flowers surrounding them.

"Nope. I wanted to let you sing to your heart's content," Rory explained in reference to the way he only sang when she was done reading.

She swung one leg over the bench seat and leaned against the curved arm. Marty settled in front of her and eased himself back.

"Am I squishing you?" he asked.

"Nope," Rory confirmed, rubbing her cheek against his curls and running her fingers along the sides of his t-shirt. His quiet music drifted through the air. There was a rustle nearby, and Rory spied two birds hopping from branch to branch, chasing each other. Contentment washed over her, and she sighed happily.

_I love snuggling with you._

There it was again! Rory always had trouble saying it in the past, and here it was now, tumbling out of her mouth or into her thoughts time and time again. Granted, she hadn't actually said, "I love you." These instances were close, though.

_Do I love Marty and I just don't know it?_

Rory felt sixteen again, trying to figure out whether or not she loved her boyfriend. However, it wasn't quite the same this time. With Dean, it had almost been like she was choosing to love him, maybe because she thought she was supposed to. Here, Rory was just studying herself, trying to get her head up to speed with her heart. It was taking the same effort and deliberation. The difference was whether she was pushing herself to be in love, or if she was pushing herself to stop resisting the fact that she _was_ in love.

_I'm in love, aren't I?_

A warm rush coursed through her and she gave Marty a little squeeze.

Love was peppered into Rory's conversation like second nature because it _was_ second nature. This wasn't a crush anymore. She loved Marty; she just hadn't admitted it until now.

Rory wondered if it was too soon to tell him. They had only just passed the two month mark. Dean didn't get around to saying it until three months, and even then it didn't go too well for him. She didn't want to make a fool of herself like Dean, saying it before the other person felt the same way.

This, of course, made her remember what Carl's previous glance had alluded to.

_When Rory arrived at the Psych coffee cart, Marty was already there at a table with Carl, nose buried in a book._

_"Hey, guys," she said, taking a seat next to Marty and giving him a peck hello._

_"Hey," he greeted, sliding the third coffee cup over to Rory._

_"Shouldn't you be somewhere off on your own with that?" she chided amiably._

_"Shhh, you're distracting me," Marty said, playfully shooing her away. "Talk to Carl. He was just telling me a rumor that you guys are probably about to get your mid-terms from Dr. Schwartz."_

_Rory gasped then quickly tried to reign in her excitement. "Your sources better be good," she warned Carl. "If you get my hopes up only to have them dashed to pieces, I may have to hurt you."_

_"Whatever," he said indifferently. "You get your hopes up everyday anyway__."_

_The two classmates talked quietly about the ridiculous assignments they had received, or exchanged updates about the other members of the crew__. Fifteen minutes later, Marty checked his watch and closed his book._

_"So, you'll come by later?" he asked, ducking through the strap on his bag._

_"Same bat time, same bat channel. Just text me what you want for dinner," Rory answered as he bent over to give her a kiss goodbye._

_"Where's mine?" Carl joked with puckered lips when Marty walked past and headed down the hallway__._

_Marty gave her a little wave, which she returned. He smiled and waved a second time. Rory giggled at his silliness and waved again. His third wave was interrupted by the wall he bumped into._

_"That's what he gets for not watching where he's going," Carl teased._

_Marty rolled with the error, exaggerating his ricochet so that he bounced into the other wall. Rory laughed as he continued to bounce and spin and wave until he was out of sight__._

_"That boy is so in love with you," Carl said, laughing as he shook his head and stirred his coffee._

_She pretended to dismiss his comment__. "Come on, finish up."_

_"Getting there early won't get you that mid-term any sooner, missy."_

Unfortunately, Carl's offhand remark wasn't proof of Marty's feelings. On the other hand, Rory wasn't sure proof was needed. It had angered Dean when Rory didn't return the sentiment right away. It was as though his point was to make her say it, too. But the point of telling someone you love him should be just that; much like when she admitted she was interested in Marty that starry night. Rory wanted him to know, even if she only received a polite 'thank you' in response.

_It's settled then. When the moment is perfect, I'll tell him__._

Paying attention to his singing again, Rory smiled and nuzzled his hair. "I still think you should sign up for open mike night."

Marty shook his head as he continued to sing, and she knew he was rolling his eyes as well.

Rory tilted her head up to the sky and let her lids droop lazily. A languid smile spread across her face. She was so comfortable, Rory felt like she could fall asleep.

Suddenly, her eyes shot open with a jolt.

_This is it! THIS is the perfect moment__!_

It was a beautiful day, one of their rare times alone together recently, and they were in the garden. _Their_ garden.

Laughing quietly to herself for being oblivious up to now, Rory dropped her head forward and brought her lips to his ear, ready to whisper those three little words.

Before she even had a chance to inhale, Marty sat up.

_Crap!_

The moment was slipping away as quickly as she noticed it was there. Luckily, he wasn't making a move to leave, instead fiddling with the tuning keys. Rory scooted forward, wrapped her arms around him, and rested her head between his shoulder blades.

"Hey, Marty?" she asked tentatively.

"Hmm?" he hummed absently, playing some test chords.

Rory rolled her head to place a kiss on his shirt and whispered, "I love you."

Marty lifted his head briefly then immediately dropped it down again, his one hand sliding down the strings with a high pitched scrape as he slumped forward. "Dammit, Rory," he mumbled.

She froze, confused.

_Is he mad?_

This possibility hadn't crossed her mind at all. "I'm sorry," Rory murmured as she pulled away slightly, unsure of what she was apologizing for.

"No, no, don't be sorry," he said, swinging his leg over the bench so he could angle toward her. His voice was reassuring, which only confused her more. "I didn't mean – I mean, I – You just–" Marty cut himself off, pinching his mouth and eyes closed in a grimace. "I was gonna play you this song," he explained with his eyes still shut. "A song that I wrote. And it might be stupid to still play it, but if you let me play it, maybe you won't think I'm the jackass I seem like right now."

She studied his face which was screwed up tight in mental discomfort, and all her own disappointment and frustration melted away. "Okay," Rory said softly.

"Okay," he echoed, taking a deep, calming breath. Marty's eyes remained closed as he found his bearings on the guitar again and strummed a familiar tune. Then he cleared his throat and began to sing.

_If you're a fool, you'll think you can create it.  
You'll have rules, follow steps to try and make it.  
You'll wish you could control it, try to be in command.  
And you'll blame yourself when things don't go as planned._

_If you're lucky, you'll see it when it's there,  
in a look that shows that you both care.  
In a friendship you're sure will slowly grow.  
In a sigh that says that you both know._

_If you're smart, you won't let it pass on by.  
You'll embrace it, never asking why.  
You'll voice it, without shyness or reserve.  
You'll accept it, hoping it's deserved._

_If you're wise, you'll surrender to its will,  
having faith your hearts will get their fill.  
You'll know it's pure, only meant to be enjoyed,  
That it can never be created or destroyed._

Here, Marty opened his eyes to gaze into hers, and Rory had to force herself to breathe.

_And if you're me, you'll love with your whole heart.  
Yes I know, I'll love with my whole heart__._

The song ended with one slow strum. In a low voice, he continued his explanation. "See, and then I was going to set aside the guitar, like this. And then I was going to kiss you, like this." Marty cupped her neck with one hand, covered her hand with the other, and brought his lips to hers. "And then I'd say, 'I love you, Rory.'"

She kissed him again and played along with the do-over. "And then I'd say, 'I love you, too, Marty.'"

He pulled back and looked in her eyes again. "I'm sorry I was such an idiot. You just beat me to the punch and it threw me off."

"I don't care anymore," Rory laughed.

Marty smiled, relieved that the crisis was over. "I kind of wrote that song for you."

"Marty!" she gasped, admonishing him.

"What?"

"What do you mean, 'What?' You just told me a bold faced lie!"

"No, I didn't."

"Yes, you did. You were singing that song our first morning here."

"You remember that?" Marty asked with a smug grin.

"Of course I remember. So busted, buster!"

"I'm not busted. I wrote it for my dream girl. I just didn't know she was you when I was writing it."

Her playful scowl fell from her face, touched by his words. Not knowing what to say, Rory pulled him closer and kissed him passionately.

"I'm pretty sure I just won that argument," he gloated.

"Shush, you, or I'll put you back in solitary."


	26. Knock 'Em Dead

**AN**: Hello my pretties! I hope everyone had a great Halloween. No trick-or-treaters at the new house, but oh well (more Nerds for me!). Maybe next year a haunted house will lure - I mean - draw them in. I hope all of you who could vote did!  
Many thanks to my beta, Jewels12 for fitting me in. She's in the middle of a ton of midterms, so in honor of her ... Brickabracka brickabracka sisboombah! Jewels12, Jewels12, rah rah rah!  
Also, a big thank you to all who added this story to your alert/favorite list or left a review. That reminds me: I have some reviews I haven't answered yet, which I'll be doing ... NOW!  
What? Oh yes, the real reason you're here :)

* * *

"You're going to ask for names, right?"

"Nope."

"Rory!"

"Back off, Paris," Rory begged.

"I won't. You need those names so you can call back later. Do you have any idea how many undergrads were scared into grad school a couple years ago due to the bad job market? And now they're all graduating. That means in addition to competing in a bad economy with the standard undergraduate population, you're also up against the over-inflated graduate population. As a freshman, I might add."

"I know all this, Paris! Has it ever occurred to you that you're doing a better job of motivating me to freak out than to become a stalker like you?"

"And yet, I'm the one with a summer job lined up," Paris replied self-righteously.

"Listen, okay? I talked to the people at the career center. I'm calling at the appropriate frequency."

"Only suckers call at the appropriate frequency. When everyone calls at the appropriate frequency, it's only the ones who step it up a notch that'll be noticed."

"A notch? Paris, a call a day to no less than 5 different people at each place, plus emails? That is not a notch. That's – That's–"

"A skyscraper?" Marty suggested from the edge of her bed.

"Yes, thank you," she said to Marty then pointed her hairbrush at Paris. "Look, I'm trying to get ready for this interview and you are not helping."

"Are you kicking me out of my own room?" Paris huffed, an incredulous scowl on her face.

"You kick me out all the time!" Rory cried out in exasperation. "Now, if you have your own reasons for being here, then fine, stay. But if you're only here to get on my case, then … Yes, I'm kicking you out."

"Fine!" Paris yelled - not that it was much louder than her regular speaking voice. She stalked over to the doorway and turned back to Rory, one hand on the knob and the other on the frame. "But when we graduate, and you're passed over for job after job because all the recruiters who go over résumés think, 'Hmm, I could either hire this person who did something meaningful all three summers, or Rory Gilmore who sat on her ass for one of them. Clearly she didn't have the drive to take her freshman summer seriously, so I'll hire the other person,' don't say I didn't warn you."

With that, Paris slammed the door behind her. Seconds later, they heard the muffled sounds of C-Span through the wall.

"Can you believe her?" Rory grumbled, glancing at Marty in the mirror as she resumed working on her hair.

"She just does it because she cares about you."

"Do _not_ tell me you're on her side."

"Oh, I'm not. She's certifiable," Marty assured her. "However, under that crazy candy coating is a friend who just wants the best for you."

"I know," Rory mumbled reluctantly. "I just wish she didn't terrorize me while she looked out for me." She fumbled the hair clip and had to pick it up off the ground. "God, look at this. I can't even put my hair up because my hands are trembling."

"C'mere."

"You planning on doing my hair for me?" she teased.

"Of course not. No one would hire you if I did. Just c'mere."

Rory dropped her playful demeanor. "I can't. If I don't leave in the next fifteen minutes I'll have to run, which would undo everything I'm working on here," she said, her hands waving around her head to indicate the current primping.

"I won't take long, I promise," he said in a matter-of-fact tone.

Rory hesitated. She really didn't have time. On the other hand, she also knew she needed to calm down, and Marty was always so good at calming her down and helping her to regain her confidence. Rory set the brush and clip down and walked over to him. He took her right hand in his and guided her so she was sitting sideways on his lap. She watched Marty's long lashes rest on his cheek briefly while he placed a soft kiss on the back of her hand. He opened his eyes and smiled at her, putting her hand on her lap and picking up the other one. His eyes closed again when he pressed his lips to her skin.

"Still trembling?" Marty asked, returning her hand to her lap and wrapping his arms around her waist.

She smiled at him and shook her head in response.

"She's wrong, okay? You're not competing with the grad students, or even the seniors. They're all applying for full-time jobs. You're going for an internship. Yeah, they're more likely to offer a junior a position than a freshman, but the situation's not quite as dire as she made it out to be, okay?"

"I know."

"And what's the worst that could happen?"

"They don't make me an offer, and I take the job at the Stars Hollow Gazette," Rory recited.

"Right. Okay, all done," he said, taking his hands from her and leaning away.

Rory placed her hands on his cheeks and gave him a quick kiss. "Thanks," she said then hopped off his lap. Her hair went up properly on the second try, and a couple minutes later he was walking her past a petulant Paris and out into the hallway.

"Knock 'em dead," Marty said in an attempt to rouse her spirits.

"If they're dead then they can't hire me," she teased. "Hey, thanks for taking a break and seeing me off."

"No problem. Love you." With a kiss, she was on her way.

* * *

"Stupid freakin' waste of time," Rory grumbled as she exited the student center a little over an hour later.

She was frustrated because she wanted to gripe and rail, but Paris wasn't going to be a sympathetic ear on this subject, and her boyfriend was still holed up in his room, catching up. Marty wasn't in danger of failing Euro Lit anymore, so a lot of the pressure and panic had subsided. However, he was still pushing himself to at least cross over into the 'B' range. Though Rory didn't want to distract him or make him lose momentum, she really needed a little bit of cheering up.

_Oh, suck it up_, she scolded herself as she walked past her suite and up the stairs. _Despite what Paris has to say, it's not the end of the world. Just let him know how it went and then move on with your day._

"Come in!" Carl and Marty called out in unison when she knocked on their door.

"Hey, Carl," she greeted as she walked to Marty's desk.

"Hey, Rory." Carl raised his hand in greeting, not looking up from his work.

Rory placed her hands on Marty's shoulders and kissed the top of his head.

"Onnnnnne sec," he dragged out while he finished the sentence in progress. Slapping his pen down, Marty twisted around to face her. "So how did it – Oh." His upbeat expression fell when he saw Rory's less-than-joyous one.

"Let's just say I'll be calling the Gazette to accept the position there."

"I'm sorry. What happened?"

"It's no big deal. I just wanted to give you the status report. So!" Rory said, trying to liven her tone. "What do you want me to pick up for dinner?"

Marty lowered his voice to avoid drawing too much attention to her. "Well, wait a sec. Seriously, what happened?"

Knowing he wouldn't drop it, she set her bag down next to his desk and sat on the end of his bed. "It went fine. It was just a waste of time. He asked me questions and seemed to like my answers. I showed him my portfolio, and he had me talk about some of my key pieces. But when I started asking questions about the job and start dates and when they planned on contacting candidates, he let me know they weren't actually hiring."

"What?"

"I know. That's what I thought, too. I said, 'Oh,' and just sat there. God, I must have looked so stupid. Even though I was still trying to smile like it wasn't a big deal, I could tell I had confusion written all over my face, and I can't imagine the combination was flattering. He explained that they had to show up for the career fairs in order to hold their spot for next year, and they're conducting interviews in case they lift the hiring freeze."

"I hate it when they do that," Carl chimed in.

Rory twisted in her spot and saw Carl facing them, an arm draped over the back of his chair. "Wait, this happened to you, too?" she asked.

"Mostly at the career fair. You know, you wait in line for twenty minutes just to drop off a résumé they _say_ they'll pull up when they start hiring again. But yeah, once or twice in interviews. It's not really a waste of time, though."

"Are you kidding?" she scoffed. "How it is not a waste of everyone's time?"

Carl gave a half-shrug. "Well, you were at least able to practice interviewing. I don't know about you, but I was pretty nervous during my first few. Now? I don't know. They don't seem like that big of a deal anymore. Which means I'll already have most of the nervous stuff out of my system by the time I'm interviewing again next year."

Rory turned back to Marty when he added, "Yeah, tons of freshmen, like yours truly, didn't bother going to interviews. So you'll be ahead of the curve next year. Thanks for psyching me out, Carl," he said sarcastically.

"I guess," she said, dropping her gaze to the crooked seam in her business skirt. To a certain degree, Rory accepted their vague reassurances and knew there was some truth to them. Deep down, though, she was still so very disappointed. She was Rory Gilmore, child star of Stars Hollow, and yet she felt like she had already burnt out. Unlike the other interviews that didn't pan out, this time she didn't have the luxury of looking forward to focusing on the next one. This was it. She had thoroughly scoured the schedule at the career center, and no other companies that had journalistic-type positions were coming in.

_I did everything right__. I had the career center review my résumé. I went to practice interviews. I went to any and all of the booths that were applicable. I followed up on all my real interviews. How am I here when I did everything right?_

Rory lifted her head again and saw Marty eying her carefully. She gave him a wan smile. "Well, on the bright side, my mom will be thrilled to have me home for the summer." Though she tried her best to sound chipper, Rory knew he was seeing right through her.

"Hey, what do you say we take a break and go do something fun tonight?" Marty whispered.

Rory scoffed and shook her head. This was exactly what she wanted, but she didn't feel right going along with it. "No, Marty. I'm fine. I'm not going to let you lose your focus just to throw me a pity party."

"Who said anything about a pity party? Maybe I'm the one who needs the break. It's not always about you, you know," he said with a humorous glint in his eye. Resuming his regular speaking voice, Marty called across the room. "Hey, Carl. What are you doing tonight?"

"Same thing I do every night, Pinky – try to take over my textbooks," Carl droned.

"You up for a change in plans?"

Carl's ears perked up at this, and he turned to them again. "Depends. What are you suggesting?"

"Not sure yet. Something fun – Rory's call – and we'll see if the rest of the crew can join us."

"My call?" Rory asked. The wheels in her head started spinning as she considered the possibilities.

"Your call."

"You're saying anything I pick, that's what we're doing?" she asked, making sure he wasn't going to work in any loopholes.

"Preferably something legal, but otherwise, yes. Whatever you pick."

"It's Tuesday, right?"

"Yup," Marty confirmed. Rory broke out into a grin, her eyes lighting up with mischief. "Uh, why?" he asked warily.

She hopped off the bed and walked to the corner. "Three words," Rory said. She reached into his case, pulled out his guitar, then spun on her heels to walk back to him. "Open–"

"Rory," Marty said, his tone warning her to stop.

"Mike"

"No, anything except–"

"Night." She stopped in front of him, triumphantly holding out the instrument.

"–That," he finished dejectedly. "Please, Rory. Pick something else."

She shook her head in mock sympathy. "It's not illegal. That was your one condition."

"The rest of the crew won't wanna hear that," Marty tried to argue.

"Oh, I beg to differ," Carl interrupted with a look of glee on his face.

Marty shot a scowl toward his roommate. He stood up to take the guitar out of her hands and set it on his bed. As he wrapped his arms around her, Rory knew he was going to try again to change her mind. "You know I haven't practiced in weeks," he pleaded.

"You don't need practice. You just need to warm up. I guess you better get crackin' while I change and call Julie and Steve."

"So that's it? That's your final answer?"

"It is indeed, Regis," she said with a pert little nod.

"Let me make sure I understand. To you, 'fun' equals 'humiliate Marty?'" It was his last ditch effort to guilt her out of this.

"Yes," Rory and Carl said together.

"Nice," Marty said with a roll of his eyes. "Fine, go call Julie and Steve," he muttered.

"Thank you!" she chirped. She leaned up on her tiptoes to firmly whisper, "You're going to be great," then planted a kiss on his lips.

When Rory closed the door behind her, she heard Carl cackle, "Dude, you're so whipped."

* * *

"All right. See you then!" Rory snapped her phone shut and tossed it onto the bed so she could root through her closet freely.

"What was that?" Paris asked suspiciously.

"That was me making plans for tonight."

"Shouldn't you be writing your 'thank you for seeing me today' email?"

"Maybe, but I'm not," she said casually, dismissing the topic. "Hey, do you need a break?"

"Rory, I thrive on stress. I can't function without a million tasks on my plate."

"Fine. Do you _want_ a break?" Rory threw various articles of clothing onto her bed and proceeded to free herself of her suit. She took her roommate's silence as a reluctant 'maybe.' "Sip has an open mike night today, and we're going to see Marty play something. You can join us as long as you promise not to be mean."

"When am I mean?" Paris asked indignantly.

Rory raised one eyebrow at her roommate as she zipped up her pants.

"Fine, I won't be mean."

"Good. The crew is meeting here in about twenty minutes. We'll leave shortly after that."

A little later, Rory and Paris were waiting in the common room. The crew gradually trickled in, catching up on what was new while carefully avoiding the topic of schoolwork and summer plans. When the last of them arrived, everyone stood up to leave.

Marty immediately pulled Rory aside in a panic. "Paris is coming?"

"And you said _I_ was mean," Paris said wryly as she passed.

"It'll be fine," Rory reassured him. "She agreed to behave."

During the walk over, Julie peppered Marty with questions about what he was going to play, and Steve tried to distract her so she wouldn't psyche Marty out. Rory walked a couple steps ahead with Paris and frequently glanced over her shoulder to beam at Marty encouragingly. She wanted to make sure he knew that his efforts to cheer her up were definitely working.

They found seats that were a couple tables away from the stage and fairly well centered. Food was ordered, but Marty didn't touch his, insisting that he'd eat after he played. Eventually someone signaled to him that he would be up soon.

Rory put out a hand to keep him from standing for a second. "Hey," she whispered. "Knock 'em dead."

"That's a horrible plan, with you in the audience," Marty teased. He accepted her kiss then walked behind the curtain.

Once the person on stage finished, Marty came out with his guitar and sat down on the stool. He was so pale that he almost seemed translucent. "Uh, hi. My name is Marty Fischer, and I'll–"

"Wooooo! Ow ow ow! Yeahhhhh!" the crew shouted, banging on the table enthusiastically. Paris simply crossed her arms and looked away.

Marty leaned around the microphone to avoid having everyone in the place hear him. "Would you cut it out?" he gritted through clenched teeth. Once the screaming had subsided, Marty returned to the mike. "Uh, please ignore the lunatics at table twelve," he said with a slight laugh.

"Oh good, he has a little color in his cheeks now," Julie whispered as Marty introduced his song.

Rory watched him adjust the microphone and settle his guitar on his lap. While she could tell he was still a little nervous, he appeared a lot more relaxed than he had a minute ago. Marty dropped his head while his fingers began strumming the tune. He raised it again, his eyes now closed as he sang.

She smiled serenely, tapping her foot and swaying to the upbeat music. He finally opened his eyes and they found hers right away. She broke out into a full power smile. Rory knew he had momentarily forgotten the roomful of people, just as she had briefly forgotten anything related to interviews or summer jobs. As she gazed at him, she pictured visiting him while he worked at his uncle's bar, or having him down for a weekend in Stars Hollow. It was going to suck being apart for the summer now that they were used to spending every day together, but Rory figured that would just make their visits all the more special.

Closing his eyes again, Marty scrunched up his face, tilted his head to lift his jaw, and let out a jazzy "Ow!" Their table, minus Paris again, erupted into delighted hoots and hollers of surprise that quickly died down as Marty continued singing.

He was enjoying himself, and Rory knew it. She could see him laughing slightly, even though it was usually accompanied by a disbelieving shake of his head. At one point, Marty flashed her a look that plainly telegraphed, 'I can't believe you convinced me to do this.'

His hand strummed faster and faster on the strings until he clapped them into a muted hum with a slap. Rory and the crew broke out into approving shouts again, hands clapping or pounding the table. She could tell the rest of the audience was merely clapping politely like Paris, but from the halo of noise around her it sounded like the whole place had gone wild.

Marty disappeared backstage again to store his guitar. Once the next number had ended, he darted out and was welcomed to the table with stage-whispered congratulations. Carl clapped him on the back as he walked past, and Julie fanned herself, pretending she was about to faint.

"You were a little sharp. I'm assuming that was just from nerves."

"Thank you, Paris," Marty said with strained patience as he passed behind her.

Without a word, Rory stood up, wrapped her arms around his neck, and attempted to kiss the living daylights out of him. "You are amazing," she whispered when they finally pulled apart

"Is this the kind of greeting I'd receive every time I sang here?"

"There's one way to find out," Rory said impishly.

They remembered themselves and took their seats again. Steve shook him by the shoulder and said, "Good job," preventing Marty from taking a controlled first bite of his dinner.

Did he blow the crowd away? No. But he blew her away, just by going up there and giving it his all. And for the rest of the evening, that was all that mattered to Rory.


	27. Magic Fingers

**AN #1 (06-14-11)**: Since I made you all wait so long for this chapter, I'll make this note quick. (1) No, I am not in a ditch. (2) My beta, Jewels12, is a godsend. Enjoy!

**AN #2 (06-19-11)**: Guys! Guys! Guess what! I JUST MET MARTY! Wayne Wilcox is in The Normal Heart on Broadway, which I just saw. Afterward, I got a picture with him and I told him I rooted for Marty the whole time (I was too shy to fess up about the fanfic). I brought Season 4 with me for him to sign. In his autograph he wrote, "Thanks for rooting for me." I even got to talk to him about the play a little. He was so nice and sweet. It was such a great experience!

* * *

"Mmm," she hummed when he slid his thumbs firmly up her neck.

"Is that nice?" Marty asked, repeating the motion to see if he could elicit the same response.

"Mmmhmmm." Rory sighed tightly.

"You didn't used to moan like this," he teased, referring to the platonic back rubs of their past life. Marty then returned his fingers to the knots at the base of her neck while bracing her shoulders with his knees so she would have an easier time reading.

"I think it would have been a little weird if I had then," she countered. "Oh, right there."

"Good spot?"

"Mmm." Rory moaned in contentment.

Marty smiled and kissed the top of her head as he continued massaging her. He glanced around her common room. There were some new additions – Paris' latest craze was bead mosaic picture frames, and the furniture had been rearranged. Tana was apparently into emo music now, judging from the songs that were drifting out of her room. Lots of individual changes that all added up to an indication of how long it had been since Marty had last spent more than a couple minutes here.

"For the record, this feels all wrong."

His eyes, which had been lingering on some new pictures, snapped to Rory. His hands froze in place. "What do you mean?" Marty asked.

"This. Not only are you not studying, but you're taking care of me. Don't get me wrong. I'm totally loving it, but it still feels wrong."

He exhaled and resumed kneading her knots. "I thought you meant I hurt you."

"God no. Your fingers are magical. I may have to start calling you Mickey Dolenz."

Marty shook his head at the crazy things his girlfriend came up with. "Well, you deserve it. You've catered to me, both literally and figuratively, for a while now. It's the least I could do."

"You're sweet," she said, and Marty could hear the smile in her voice. "But be prepared. Once I'm done with this chapter, I plan on returning the favor. I won't feel right until I do."

Truth be told, he wasn't being sweet. Not entirely, at least. The massage was just as much about doing something nice for Rory as it was about having his hands on her. And while he wouldn't turn down the reciprocation, Marty really wished they could do a little more than back rubs. He knew that wasn't very possible, though, what with Paris possibly coming home any minute.

"Done!" Rory called out, tossing her book on the coffee table. "You're mine now, mister." She stood up in front of him and pulled him to his feet.

"Where are we going?" Marty asked with a knowing smile as she walked backwards and lead him around the furniture. He followed her awkwardly, trying to make sure he didn't step on her bare feet.

"I'm getting you topless for this, and there's no way I'm going to let other girls ogle you," she answered.

They walked through her door and Marty closed it behind them. When she started lifting his t-shirt with a pleased hum, he couldn't prevent a soft, disbelieving puff from escaping his nose. It still baffled him that a girl – any girl, much less Rory Gilmore – would be this excited about taking his shirt off. It's not like he had a great body or anything. Though he knew he wasn't fat, Marty certainly wasn't ripped. Cuddly was more like it. She bunched the fabric by his armpits and he took over from there, reaching his hands back and pulling at the hem. While he was in this vulnerable state, he felt her lips kiss his chest lightly and her fingers brush over his love handles. He chuckled as his shirt popped over his mop of hair. Apparently she liked cuddly well enough.

"Go on, lie down," Rory coaxed.

Marty silently obeyed her, settling himself on her pillow and closing his eyes. He felt the bed shift as Rory climbed on and seated herself on his rear. She started near his waist, shifting her weight to her hands. He grunted as Rory's slender fingers dug into him during their slow climb up his skin. She lifted off of him when she went to work on his shoulders and neck. Marty felt her make her way down and noted that her descent seemed to be taking longer than her ascent - not that he was complaining. Sometimes Rory only pressed on him with one hand, likely giving the other one a break. She was gentler during her second trip up his spine, using her palms more than her fingers.

"How's that?" Rory whispered, placing a kiss between his shoulder blades, her hair tickling his bare skin.

"Hmmm. Very good, thank you," Marty mumbled and gave her calves an appreciative squeeze. As she pushed herself up, he felt her graze her body against his. Marty's eyes shot open and he craned his neck to see her topless form. "Sweet Jesus, woman!" he yelped in surprise.

"Yes?" she giggled innocently, clearly enjoying the reaction she was receiving.

Marty planted his face on the pillow and reached both hands toward her. "How long have you…?" His fingers opened and closed, trying to find purchase on her curves. "What if…?" Realizing she was leaning away to evade him, Marty dropped his arms in defeat. "A little help here?"

Rory's giggles bubbled into laughter. "What seems to be the problem?"

"Don't make me buck you off."

"You wouldn't," she taunted.

"I might. I'm a deprived man." In one swift movement, Marty brought one forearm in front of him and pushed up, twisting to reach his free hand out before she could lean away again. "Ha ha!" he cried out triumphantly when his fingers closed around the first breast they found. His face relaxed and his eyes rolled back in bliss. "Will you please let me up now?" Marty begged quietly.

Rory silently lifted her bottom off of his to give him the wiggle room necessary to flip over.

His one hand never let go of her while the other wrapped around her waist to hold himself up against her. Their tongues met, and Marty felt himself go weak.

It had been so long since he had felt Rory like this – heck, since they had even kissed to this extent. The speed with which his pants tightened made Marty realize how grateful he was that she had put a kibosh on fooling around. Because he knew without a doubt that he never would have been able to tear himself away from this, making an F in EuroLit a certainty. Marty also congratulated himself for having the brains to fend off that F so he could be here. Now. Where he was kissing Rory and caressing her warm, soft….

"I missed you so much," he whispered in a trembling voice.

Rory moaned against his lips. "Me too."

Marty felt himself get even harder. "Paris…." he whispered.

Rory pulled away and playfully raised a single eyebrow at him. "It's commonly considered a faux pas to say another girl's name in situations like this, you know."

His eyebrows knitted together. "Not funny. You know what I meant."

She smoothed her thumb over his brow. Moving in for a kiss, Rory assured him, "She won't interrupt."

Marty slowly reclined and Rory willingly followed him, placing both hands on the bed.

_How do you know? … Are you sure? … How long do we have?_

These were the questions that were floating far off in Marty's head; questions he would be asking if only he could hear them over the pounding that filled his ears.

Marty cupped both hands on her, running his thumbs around her nipples as their tongues ran circles around each other. When he slid his hands to her back, Marty could feel her breasts dancing lightly on his chest with her small, incidental movements. His hands trailed down her body, over her shorts, and along her thighs. Rory raised herself off of him slightly and kissed him a little more hungrily. Marty's fingers dipped under the hem of her shorts. He paused, waiting to see if she would object.

Instead, Rory hummed pleasantly. Marty slowly moved his hands further inside, giving her the opportunity to stop him if she wanted to. He silently thanked her for not being one of those girls who wears skintight clothing. His fingers traced the hem of her panties as his hands moved to cup her hamstrings.

She gasped, pulling her mouth away from his to suck in the air her body demanded. Rory's head was thrown back and her body arched above him. Despite how he marveled at her apparent arousal, Marty couldn't ignore the flesh that was hovering tantalizingly close to his face. He took one of Rory's nipples into his mouth while his fingers rubbed her inner thighs, his knuckles brushing against her panties with each motion.

"Marty," she whimpered.

"Should I stop?"

"Don't you dare."

Marty twitched inside his jeans and his heart rate kicked up a notch. He continued to knead her as he weighed his options. A short time later, his hands slid out of her shorts.

"What are you … Marty, you weren't supposed to…." Rory yelped in confusion as he banded her to his chest with one arm.

"I'm not," he answered, using his other arm as leverage to flip her over. Once they were untangled, Marty settled himself next to her, one leg crossed over one of hers. He paused briefly to consider his next move.

It wasn't that he was scared or even nervous. Anxious was more like it – in every sense of the word. Marty could hardly wait for what would likely happen next and worried if Rory would enjoy it as much as he hoped.

After what he was sure was an audible swallow, Marty watched his knuckles brush around the curve of her breast and down toward her navel. His hand continued lower and stopped at Rory's waistband.

With his fingers playing on the button, Marty lifted his gaze to her face. Her eyes were closed, her breath shallow.

"Is this okay?" he asked.

Rory opened her eyes and nodded. "More than okay."

Marty captured her mouth in a heated kiss as he worked the metal circle out of its hole. His hand then moved to the tab on her zipper and drew it down.

He hooked two fingertips into the front of her panties then turned his hand around, fumbling to bring in the fingers that were caught outside. Rory chuckled lightly against his lips, her belly becoming taut for a moment, then relaxing.

Desperate to give her pleasure, Marty reached in and rubbed her clit quickly and firmly, anticipating her wild cries of orgasmic joy.

Rory pressed her head into the pillow and arched her chin up, breaking the kiss. "Too hard. Too hard," she hissed, the tension on her face apparently from displeasure rather than delight.

"I'm sorry." Marty began to retract his finger.

"No, it's okay. Please, don't stop," she said breathlessly, coaxing him to continue touching her.

Marty reached past the spot that had given him trouble and touched her entrance. His index finger pressed into her. He moved his wrist around in attempt to find the right angle. Since there wasn't much room to work with inside her shorts, Marty tucked his other fingers further into her panties.

"Hold on, hold on," Rory laughed, squirming away from him.

He pulled his hand out and rested it on the bed next to her, exasperated with himself for being so bad at this.

She tried and failed to suppress her laughter. "I'm sorry. This just went a lot better in my dream," Rory explained.

"Your what?" Marty asked, his eyebrows reaching epic heights.

"Nothing!" she clearly lied, bugging her eyes out at him.

"Wait, you've dreamt about me?" He smiled broadly. Despite his recent failure, Marty felt quite proud about this news.

"No!" she lied again.

"Rory, you're allowed to dream about your boyfriend. It's actually preferable to, you know, dreaming about other guys."

"I know."

"Then why are you trying to take it back?"

"Because you weren't … at the time."

"I wasn't what?"

Rory closed her eyes and grimaced. "My boyfriend," she whispered.

"Oh," he said offhandedly, furrowing his eyebrows as he tried to make sense of what Rory was saying. As realization dawned on him, Marty's face softened and he looked down at her, flattered. "Oh," he repeated quietly, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "Why are you embarrassed about that? It's not like you can help what you do in your sleep."

Rory's eyes darted around evasively, letting him know there was more to this story.

"Wait, was this, like, a sleeping dream, or a day dream?"

"Kind of both," she admitted.

"You are definitely going to have to explain that better at some point. Not now, though, since I think I've sufficiently killed the mood," Marty said with a sad laugh.

"I wouldn't say that. I just wasn't expecting…."

"My lack of skills? It's not really fair to expect me to compete with your imagination," he teased.

"I didn't!" Rory protested. "I was comparing you to _other_ things you've done."

"What about them?" he asked, wondering how they related to this at all.

"Remember our first sleepover? You didn't go straight to these," she explained, gesturing to her nipples. "You teased me until I almost couldn't stand it. And … I liked that."

Of course. How could he have been so foolish? Marty was so focused on giving her pleasure that he accidentally skipped half the stuff that would please her.

"Will you give me one more chance?"

Rory smiled wickedly. "I plan on giving you more than just the one."

He let out a soft laugh and shook his head. Marty then gave her shorts a light tug. "Can we also…?"

"Oh. Yeah. Good idea."

She lifted her hips, allowing Marty to drag the article down her mile-long legs. He slid his hand from Rory's ankle, over her knee, and along her thigh. When Marty reached her hip, he settled next to her.

His first instinct was to ask her to tell him if he did anything that hurt her or that she didn't like until he reminded himself Rory had already shown that she would. Instead, Marty said, "Can you do me a favor?"

"Sure."

"If I do something you especially like, will you make sure I know it?"

Rory beamed at him. "Yeah, I think I can handle that."

He leaned in and stopped just short of kissing her, their noses brushing against each other. "Good. Because I really want you to like this."

A guttural sound almost escaped her lips before he swallowed it in a deep kiss. The faint hint of raspberries made Marty realize how much he had overlooked when plowing through at top speed earlier. He was determined that this time he would take everything in, not missing a detail.

His hand, which had been gripping Rory's waist to hold her close, relaxed and drifted up to her breast. Marty brushed his hand over the soft mound of flesh, and her beaded nipple strummed across his fingers. It still amazed him that he had the ability to arouse her this way.

Trailing kisses along her jaw, Marty made his way to her neck. He opened his mouth and laved one of her favorite spots just before sucking her skin lightly. The sharp tang of salt replaced her berry flavor, clueing him in to the thin slick of sweat that her elevated heart rate had created.

Rory's fingers raked through his hair as her warm breath wafted over his ear in soft pants.

With a parting squeeze, Marty's hand left her breast and traveled south. He glided over her panties, detecting the moisture that resided there. Marty bent his finger so his nail lightly rasped the fabric covering her entrance. He smiled against Rory's neck.

"What?" she asked.

"You trembled."

"I tremble all the time with you," Rory whispered with a quiver to her voice.

Marty's lips dotted a path down to her breast as his hand brushed over to her hip. Closing his mouth around her nipple, he hooked a fingertip under her panties and slowly traced the hem, grazing along the crease of her leg. As he moved lower, he felt her soft hairs brush past his knuckle. Rory moaned above him, and when he found the inside of her panties coated in juices, Marty had to release her nipple and echo her.

"You're wet." This blew his mind and he partially collapsed, resting his head on her chest. How did he manage to miss this enticing fact when he dipped into her earlier?

"What did you expect?"

"I know, but I mean, you're _so_ wet." Marty trailed his finger slowly along the crotch of her panties, parting the creamy collection there.

"You've always made me wet," she whispered. "Even … even before we were dating."

Marty held his breath. He was pretty sure where she was going with this and didn't want to risk interrupting her train of thought. His finger ran back and forth. Her hair was moist here, effectively painting a light coat onto him with each pass.

"The ballet," Rory choked out. "I didn't have the nerve to ask you as a date."

Sure that his journalist was now committed to telling the story, Marty extracted his finger and teased it over her covered opening on his way to her waistband.

"I dreamed I went to your room to change the terms."

He consciously turned his hand first to make a smoother entrance and avoid tickling her this time.

"I tried seducing you to make sure you would say yes."

Would he have needed that much convincing? Considering how events actually unfolded, apparently the answer was yes, though the idea of turning Rory down seemed so ridiculous now.

Marty's hand moved further inside her panties. One fingertip reached out and traced the thin strip of skin around the edge of her clit. "How?" he asked, his voice hoarser than he had expected.

"I took – Oh! – I took off my shirt … And my bra … And I tried to kiss you."

Continuing his journey deeper, Marty stroked the outside of one lip along its full length. "Tried?" Clearly he didn't have enough brain power for more than one word at a time.

"I woke up before we kissed."

She woke up. Before they kissed. Before they did anything like this. Which could only mean . . . Marty looked up, silently begging for confirmation. Rory bit her lip then gave the smallest of nods. Marty's face lit up in amazement.

"I realized how wet I was," she explained. "I wondered what would have happened if I hadn't woken up. When I imagined kissing you, I became even wetter."

Transfixed as he was, Marty noticed he had rubbed away all the moisture in this particular spot. He dragged his finger up the inside of her lip, just skirting her entrance, causing her to quiver. His finger replenished the baby soft skin then lightly passed over her clit on its way to the other side. Rory let out a plaintive whimper.

She took a moment to recover. "I asked you to touch me, and when you did, I did."

Weakened yet again, Marty dropped his forehead to her chest and breathed his question against her flesh. "Did I make you…?" His voice trailed off, not sure how to ask without sounding either clinical or crude.

"Yes," she answered, saving him.

Marty moved his finger the short distance over her lip and stroked her entrance. "I want – so badly – to make you…."

"You are," Rory assured him, as did the sounds of more moisture pooling at her sex.

He summoned the strength to raise his head so he could gaze into her eyes. "You are absolutely fascinating."

She smiled through her blush, slightly shaking her head at the compliment. Partly to end her head-shaking, and partly to have his lips on her, Marty kissed her neck where it met her jaw.

As he elongated his strokes, his fingertip flicked an unbelievably smooth spot at the base of her clit. Marty felt her pulse quicken beneath his lips. When he lightly circled Rory's small bundle of nerves, he could barely discern one beat from the next.

"You feel really good, Marty," she said on an exhale.

"So do you."

Now that he was no longer working inside the confines of her shorts, Marty was pretty sure he could enter her without making her scramble away from him. He heard wonderfully wet noises as he dipped in and out of her and felt Rory's hips rocking in time with him. He glanced at her face, mesmerized by how it could look relaxed and tense at the same time.

Marty circled her clit with his coated finger and Rory gasped in surprise. "Oh!"

"What?" he asked, wondering if he made another wrong move as he resumed massaging her inner walls.

"It's just … very different … when I don't know … what to expect."

If his ego wasn't deceiving him, Marty was inclined to think that meant she liked his touch better than her own. In an attempt to keep Rory on her toes, he alternated between stroking her inside and rubbing her sensitive bud in what was hopefully an unpredictable pattern. The way her breath was hitching with each change indicated Marty wasn't doing a bad job.

"Mmm." Rory moaned one of the times his finger sank into her.

"Is that nice?" he asked, pulling out of her.

"Mmmhmmm," she answered while Marty's wet digit traced around her swollen nub. When he bent his finger inside her, Rory gasped. "Oh, right there."

"Good spot?"

"Mmm." She sighed contentedly.

He stayed inside, stroking her steadily.

"A little faster," Rory whimpered, and he complied willingly. Her moaning was becoming higher pitched and her breathing more strangled. "Please..." she begged.

"Please what?" Marty asked, not sure what she wanted but desperate to give it to her.

"My clit," she whispered.

As his finger fulfilled her wish, Marty almost lost control hearing such a word cross her lips.

"A little harder," Rory urged.

"But, you said that was too much when–"

"That was then. This is now," she choked out.

He obeyed, pressing firmly on her nub as he circled it rapidly. Marty felt one of her hands grip his shoulder while the other dug into his curls, and her whole body tensed underneath him.

"Oh, _oh_, _**oh**_!" Rory panted in his ear. "GodIwannascream," she hissed quickly. Before he had time to worry that she would, Rory's body convulsed with one final suitemate-censored squeak as she clung to him. Marty felt her exhale and sink into the bed, then realized he wasn't quite sure if his finger should slow down or stop altogether. Rory must have felt his hesitation because she reached down and flattened his hand over her mound.

It wasn't until now that Marty felt how fast his own heart was racing. He sat up a little and gazed down at her, taking in her expression. Rory's lips were curled in a satisfied smile. Long, lush lashes rested on her flushed cheeks. She was always beautiful, but never more beautiful than she was right now.

"So, did you li – Oh, God!" Marty felt her muscles contract against his finger and he nearly passed out, imagining another part of his body feeling that squeeze one day.

She let out a low laugh. Then Rory opened her eyes and beamed up at him. "You are amazing. So, yes, I liked that. Very much."

"Me too. I am _really_ glad we're back to studying together."

"Me too." Rory smiled, pulling him down for a kiss.


	28. Let's Talk About:

**AN**: Hi hi hi! I have a few things to say in this note.

(1) If you didn't see my second author's note in the previous chapter, PLEASE go check it out. I met Marty and I'm still so stoked about it!  
(2) In case you'd be interested, I wrote a semi-smutty Rory/Marty one shot recently. I hope you check it out!  
(3) Important shoutout goes to Smu! Smu made a request for Rory to be more enthusiastic about Lorelai and Luke. Here's the first of several scenes which prove that if you ask you shall receive :)  
(4) I really hope some of you get the reference in the title. Otherwise I'll feel super old.  
(5) Thank you so much to everyone who wrote reviews and set up alerts and such. You have no idea how motivating those are! Well, maybe you do if you are also a fanfic writer :)  
(6) I am forever indebted to my lovely and talented beta, Jewels12. She reviewed two drafts of the previous chapter AND two drafts of this chapter AND put up with my crazy babbling online between some of those drafts AND makes all my stories better. Thank you Jewels!

* * *

Rory sat in her idling car, looking up at the porch. She took three slow, calming breaths, trying to remind herself that this wasn't a big deal. After all, she had sort of talked to her mom about this before. Of course, that time was just to tell her that she had started thinking about it. This was no longer thinking. This was planning.

As she walked up the front steps, Rory imagined her mom waiting at the door, ready to pounce. She shook her head, convincing herself that Lorelai's radar wouldn't be up. When she'd called her mom, Rory had been cool, but not too cool.

_Hey, Mom, I'm planning on coming to Stars Hollow in a couple days for some distraction-free studying before finals. Will I actually get to see you, or will you be too busy at the Dragonfly?_

She walked into the house and called out for her mom.

"You're here! You're here!" Lorelai cheered as she skipped down the stairs for a hug.

"I am! I am!" Rory chuckled, trying not to let her mom know how nervous she was.

Lorelai followed Rory and her bags into her room and babbled about town news. "I promise I won't talk about the inn, for both your sake and mine. Let me just say, things have become way less stressful since we each dropped something major off our to-do lists. Gypsy is still mad at us that we didn't invite her to the test run, so I let her know we want her way more than Taylor. It's just that he's critical. Not only do we need to stay in his good graces in order to avoid being shut down in the future, but if we can handle Taylor as a guest, we can handle anybody! Gypsy might overcharge us for a little while." Her mother's monologue was interrupted by the doorbell. "Oh! That must be Joe!"

While her mom went to the door, Rory snuck a small packet out of her purse and slid it into her back pocket. Then she steeled herself to join Lorelai in the kitchen.

"So, we have a chicken-bacon-ranch, a plain cheese, and a pepperoni."

"Sounds good," Rory said, serving some pieces onto her plate.

"I gave Babette the heads up that you'd be in, adding that it was purely for studying purposes and that if she disrupted you at all it might cause you to fail. So you should only see her three times while you're here."

"Thanks."

"You okay?"

"Yeah, why?"

"No reason. You're just not that talkative."

Now that Lorelai actually was on alert, Rory decided to take that as her opening. "Yeah, well, I guess I'm just conserving because I was planning on talking a lot in a moment."

"Oh, yeah? What's up?"

Rory took a sip of water to wash down her bite and then turned to look at her mother. She hoped her expression was more confident and comfortable than she felt. "I wanted to let you know that I've been talking to Marty … about sleeping together."

"Oh." Lorelai exhaled. She looked at her plate when she set down her slice. Then she smiled and looked up at Rory with shining eyes.

"Mom?"

"No, no, it's okay. I'm fine. I'm just really happy."

"You're happy?" Rory asked skeptically. "That I'm on the verge of losing my virginity?"

"Yes. Well, no, not exactly. I mean, a little part of me wishes you'd hang on to it until you checked into a retirement home, but for the most part I know that's not gonna happen. No, I'm happy because you're telling me."

"Mom, I promised you I would." Her tone lightly scolded Lorelai for doubting her.

"I know." Lorelai laughed nervously, wiping her eyes with one of Joe's napkins. "But I don't see you much outside of Friday Night Dinners, so we don't get to really talk that often anymore. And you've been dating Marty for a while so I started to think it already happened and you had forgotten to tell me. Which would be fine too, I guess, but I like this scenario so much better." She leaned forward to give Rory a hug. "You make me so proud, hon."

"So you're okay with this?" Rory asked when they pulled apart and started eating their pizza again.

"Well, I don't disapprove. Like I said, a small part of me is still pulling for the retirement home. But you're not fifteen." Lorelai touched a hand to her chest. "You're not in high school, you've made it through a year of college freedom without going hog wild crazy, you've been with Marty for months, and you're you. So I know this isn't a rash decision. Oh, speaking of rashes…."

Rory rolled her eyes and smiled. "I was wondering when we'd be getting to the nitty-gritty stuff."

"I'm just kidding. Well, not really. We don't have to start there, though."

"Let's start at the very beginning?"

"A very good place to start," Lorelai agreed.

"Well, there was a sleepover where we both said we weren't ready for sex." She saw her mom smiling at her. "What?" she asked self-consciously.

"Nothing. You guys are just so cute. Go ahead."

"Ookay. Well, it was really … liberating not having to worry 'If I do this, will he take that as a green light?' And after a while I started thinking about it more, wondering if I was ready, if I felt any differently from before when I wasn't ready." She looked at her mom cautiously. "Will it weird you out if I talk about Dean and Jess?"

"I don't think so."

"Okay. Well, I felt really safe with Dean. I knew we wouldn't do anything before I wanted to. The thing is, I never wanted to. I loved him and cared about him, but I never, you know, wanted to do _that_ with him. And then there was Jess … I told you I had started thinking about sex with Jess."

Lorelai nodded, encouraging her to continue.

"But I never really felt secure with Jess. I mean, I knew he wouldn't push me into anything, and I know he wasn't going to dump me as soon as he scored, but there were so many times I didn't know where I stood with him even without sex on the table – Don't say it," Rory said, begging her mom to stay serious after seeing her eyebrows shoot up. "So I was scared to bring that into the equation with Jess."

"Even though you wanted to."

"Yes. But now, with Marty," Rory said, unaware of the soft smile that played on her lips. "I feel safe _and_ … I want him."

"So you told him this?"

"Well, not the parts about Dean and Jess, and definitely not so eloquently, but yes," Rory said with a chuckle.

Lorelai looked at her eagerly. "Don't leave me hanging here!"

"We were studying quietly in his room one night, and out of the blue I just blurted out, 'Marty, I think I might be ready for sex.'"

Lorelai sputtered out a surprised laugh. "What? How did he react to that?"

Her words were barely discernable through her giggles. "He fell off his chair."

"Literally?"

"Literally. I hadn't been paying attention and didn't see that he was reading over a paper, absentmindedly tipping on the back two legs of his chair…."

~o~o~o~o~

"_What? Ahhh!" Marty's body spasmed at the shock of her blunt statement, throwing off his delicate balance. He started to tip too far backwards, so his body flailed in opposition to the chair to overcorrect himself._

_Rory threw her book aside and scrambled to her knees, rea__ching out uselessly as he finally tumbled off to the side to avoid cracking his head open._

"_Jeez, Rory, you can't just drop a bomb like that," Marty scolded playfully. He rolled onto his knees while the chair finished clattering to the floor._

_Now that the slow motion terror of watching him teeter was over, Rory laughed nervously at the commotion she had caused. "I am so sorry, Marty. I had no idea you were … Are you okay?"_

"_Yeah, yeah, I'm fine." He sat back on his heels and smiled at her. "So, 'might be' huh? That means I shouldn't just jump you right now, right?"_

_She chuckled at him and relaxed enough to sit down. "Not yet, no."_

_Marty nodded and rose to his feet to join her on the bed. "Good, because I have no idea when Carl might come home and we haven't worked out a sock system or anything."_

_Rory released a frustrated huff. "Marty! I'm trying to be serious here."_

"_I know, I know." He gathered one of her hands in his and crossed his legs, mirroring her. "Sorry. My brain's just trying to catch up still."_

"_Are you trying to tell me you haven't thought about this, too?" she asked with a smirk._

"_You kidding? Of course I have. I just wasn't expecting to go from Voltaire to this. So … what have you been thinking?"_

~o~o~o~o~

"After he fell," Rory continued, "I explained how comfortable I felt with him. How he never pressured me into anything … Not kissing, not groping, not … anything. He always waited for me to be ready, and even then he waited a little longer to let me make sure I really was. So I've never had to worry about things going too far, too soon. And I told him how I had started thinking about whether or not sex was still too far, or too soon, and that I didn't think it was anymore…."

~o~o~o~o~

"_Really?" Marty asked._

"_Really," she confirmed. "I mean, there are some things we need to talk about first."_

"_Right. Of course."_

~o~o~o~o~

"Then we talked about protection, which led to Marty asking what would happen if things didn't go quite as planned."

~o~o~o~o~

"_Oh. I don't know," she said evasively._

"_Rory." He smirked sweetly at her. "You cannot be your mother's daughter and tell me you haven't thought about that what-if. You can't be YOU and tell me you don't already have some sort of a plan."_

_She smiled that smile that said she loved how well he knew her. "Okay, yes. I do. But I don't want to dictate everything. I want to know your thoughts on this, too."_

~o~o~o~o~

"We decided we'd keep it, we'd stay together but wouldn't jump into marriage, and that we'd do whatever we could to stay in school," Rory summarized.

Lorelai tried to stifle her giggle. "Do you have your retirement plan all figured out as well?"

"Mom."

"Sorry. No, you're right. It's good that you could talk about that stuff. Just … holy cow. So that was basically it?"

"Um…." Rory hesitated.

~o~o~o~o~

_Marty swept his thumb soothingly over her skin. "Listen, Rory. I just need you to know that whenever this happens, I'm going to want whatever you want. However you want to be, however slowly you want to take it, that's what we're doing, okay?"_

_Searching his eyes, she wondered if Marty knew the effect he had on her. Sure, her body had been ready for a while, as their recent escapades behind closed doors made blatantly clear. But it was times like this that Rory's heart ached to have him and she knew without a doubt that Marty was perfect._

_She leaned forward and rewarded him with a kiss. "Okay," she whispered._

~o~o~o~o~

"…Yeah, that was basically it." Rory reached into her back pocket and set the packet on the table. "I found a gynecologist and already had my appointment, so I'm officially on the pill."

Lorelai's eyes darted to the blue sleeve that looked like it might be a business card holder and nodded.

Though her mom didn't seem to have a negative reaction, Rory felt the need to explain herself. "I know. There's no Trojan man present, but that doesn't mean your jokes didn't sink in. Turns out both Marty and I had one just in case. It's just that we think the pill is enough since neither one of us has ever even … made it past second with anyone before."

A soft puff of air escaped the bemused smile on Lorelai's face. "I gotta tell ya, babe, if it were anyone else I'd be so nervous he wasn't being completely honest and would still want you to use one."

"He is, though," Rory insisted.

"Yeah, I know."

"So, this is okay?"

Lorelai gave her daughter a friendly sideways glance. "I trust you read all the rules about what to do if you miss a pill?"

"Three times, and I keep them tucked inside there," Rory answered eagerly.

"And your doctor told you how antibiotics–"

"Make the pill less effective, yes. So…?"

"So … I guess you really are ready then."

Rory reached out to embrace her best friend. "Thanks, Mom."

* * *

Rory sat on the empty desk, watching Marty check drawers that opened and closed with a hollow rumble. If she were in a more playful mood her legs would be swinging with her usual energy. Instead, they hung limply over the edge as she stared across at Carl's unmade bed in order to avoid gazing sadly at the stripped one next to her.

"Well, I think that's it," Marty said quietly. She only responded by giving him a weak smile.

He ambled over to her and rested his forehead on hers. It was almost unbearable how good he smelled. Hefting his belongings downstairs gave him a nice musk and she was desperate to drink in more of that scent before it disappeared. Rory let her knees fall open and wrapped her arms around him to pull them closer together.

Marty complied easily, melting into her and capturing her lips in a searing kiss.

Though her mind knew she would have to let him leave soon, her body wasn't ready to give up the fight. Almost of their own accord, her heels hooked around Marty's legs as a preemptive strike against any attempt he might make to withdraw. Rory felt his hand caress her bare thigh just below her shorts. Her own hands fisted into the fabric of his shirt in response.

"Ahem!"

The deep 'cough' startled the young lovers who flinched apart.

"Dad!" Marty yelped. "You're early!"

Rory quickly slid off the desk and stepped out from behind him to face the two adults standing in the doorway, hoping she wasn't as red as she felt.

The woman swatted the man's arm. "George! I told you we should have knocked."

"Why should I have to knock? He knew we were coming. That boy even said he was just up here doing a final pass."

Rory and Marty both glanced out the window to see Carl jumping and waving next to a pile of boxes, frantically pointing at a minivan parked nearby.

"Well, uh, Dad. Mom. This is Rory, my girlfriend."

The wife opened her mouth to speak at the same time her husband demanded, "Is this the same girl you were seeing during spring break?"

Marty sounded miserable when he answered. "Yes, Dad."

"Huh." His father grunted.

"George!" Marty's mom said scathingly. Then she turned to Rory with a sincere smile. "It's nice to finally meet you, Rory. We've heard so much about you."

"It's nice to meet you, too, Mrs. Fischer. Mr. Fischer," she said, shaking their hands in turn.

His father only offered a gruff, "Humph," in response.

Rory wished the floor would open up and let her fall the two flights down to her own room so she could escape this humiliation.

"Oh please, call me Martha," his mom insisted amiably.

Everyone looked at Marty's dad apprehensively.

"Well, that van isn't going to pack itself." With that, Mr. Fischer turned on his heels and disappeared into the hallway.

Martha made to follow him then turned back briefly. "Don't worry, dear. He'll warm up … Eventually."

Once both parents were out of sight, Marty pulled her into a hug. "I am _so_ sorry."

Rory groaned. "Your father hates me."

"No, he doesn't."

"Then why did it sound like he wishes you'd dumped me by now?"

Marty shook his head. "That's not it. He's surprised _you_ didn't dump _me_ months ago. He doesn't exactly think that much of me."

"What? Why would–"

A sharp bark echoed through the building. "MARTY!"

They darted out of the room and a few snickers followed them down the hallway.

"I don't know. I just never measure up so I'm always disappointing him or something. I just didn't think he'd be rude to _you_. Did I mention how sorry I am?"

They caught up to his parents in the stairwell. Rory gave his hand a squeeze to let him know it was okay.

When they stepped outside, Carl appeared to be reading Mr. Fischer's expression and cringed at what he saw. He advanced on Rory and Marty, whispering, "Dude, I tried. I swear."

"I know you did," Marty assured him. "I was just … too preoccupied to notice in time."

"Does everyone have to know?" Rory whined.

Carl shot her a teasing grin. "Like I didn't already. Why do you think I offered to guard his stuff?"

"Speaking of … Mom!" Marty jogged the few steps over to his mother. "You don't have to do that. C'mon, hand it over." He took the bag of laundry from Martha who patted him on the back as she limped alongside him to the van.

Mr. Fischer already unlocked the doors and hefted the box he'd carried over inside. "He's coming back!" Rory squeaked. "Quick, grab something."

Martha stood by the van, instructing where each item would fit best as the others brought them in a steady flow. Rory knew that for her part she was trying to time her trips back and forth to be in opposition of Mr. Fischer's. She had a sneaking suspicion he was doing the same.

Once everything was crammed inside, the five people gathered on the sidewalk.

Martha approached Carl first. "Well, young man, it was very nice to see you again."

"You too, Mrs. F. Enjoy your trip this weekend."

"We will. And you, young lady…."

Rory held her breath, expecting some sort of polite scolding for her earlier display. "Oh!" she yelped as Martha pulled her into a friendly embrace.

"I've wanted to thank you so much for bringing my boy to the hospital." Martha released her and squeezed her shoulders.

This time, the blush that bloomed on her face was due to a more flattered form of embarrassment. "You don't need to thank me. I was happy to do it."

"Well, that's exactly why I appreciate it. You take care. George…."

Mr. Fischer, who had been frowning at his watch, lifted his head. "Right. Well, good luck on the rest of your finals. Marty, I'd like to beat the traffic out of here." He gave a curt nod then walked around to the driver's side.

"Take your time," Martha whispered as she entered the van.

"Well, man, this is it," Carl said, pulling Marty into a man-hug.

Marty laughed. "You say that like I won't see you next year."

"I probably won't since you ditched me for a single. Not that I blame you," he added, winking at Rory. "Hopefully Steve won't suck as a roommate."

"Aww," Rory cooed. "I think that's boy-speak for 'I'm gonna miss you.'"

Carl rolled his eyes and backed away. "And on that note, I'll let you two get to the lovey-dovey crap. Careful, though. Daddy's waiting."

"I'll miss you, too, Carl!" Marty called out overdramatically, reaching one hand out to him. "You never forget your first roommate!"

Rory's chuckles quickly died away when he turned to her. She shrugged uncomfortably. "Like he said, I guess this is it."

"We'll figure out visits, I promise."

She wrapped her arms around him and buried her face in his chest. "And we'll call a lot, right?"

"I already upped my plan."

"I'm really gonna miss you."

"I'll miss you, too. Even more than I'll miss Carl."

Reluctantly, she let out a small laugh and looked up at him.

"I love you, Rory."

"I love you, too, Marty."

A sharp honk made them both jump. Marty squeezed his eyes closed. "Seriously, _so_ sorry." He gazed at her and brushed her cheek with his thumb. "Do me a favor?"

"Sure."

"Pretend this kiss is more like the one upstairs." Marty pressed his lips to hers and lingered just long enough so that it didn't count as a peck. Then he wrenched himself away from her and waved right before sliding his door closed.

* * *

"Well, he sure was … enthusiastic," Lorelai commented with a smirk. She revved the engine of the pickup truck and wrestled the shifter into gear.

"Oh my god, I have no idea what was with him!" Rory shielded her eyes so she wouldn't have to look at Carl in the side view mirror, likely still standing there, gazing after them. "He's like that with girls, not moms. I would know. I've seen him with both."

"Don't forget, one of the few perks of teen pregnancy is that I'm always younger and more beautiful than the other moms."

"That's not it," Rory said, waving off that theory.

"Excuse me?" Her mother scoffed. "Are you saying I'm _not_ young and beautiful?"

"Of course you are, Mommy Dearest. But Carl didn't lose his mind when you walked in the room. It was when you spoke. You barely said, 'Hi, I'm…,' and his eyes glazed over, his jaw dropped open, and drool poured down his chin."

Lorelai let out a deep belly laugh. "You better not embellish your news stories like that."

"Okay, fine, he didn't actually drool, but he looked like he could have," Rory admitted.

"It was nice of him to help us load, anyway."

"Sure. But did he have to carry three boxes at a time, running at a full sprint to show off? Maybe he wasn't mesmerized when we left him back there. Maybe he was recovering from a stroke."

"Enough," Lorelai said through peals of laughter. "He strutted with his feathers on full display, my ego received a full dose of flattery, and you simply suffered some minor mortification. No real harm done, right?"

"Right," Rory agreed halfheartedly. She stared out the window and watched the last bit of campus disappear around a corner. To distract herself, she leaned forward and turned on the old radio, tuning it to a fairly static free station.

After a few minutes, Lorelai switched off the music. "Okay, I can't take it anymore!" she wailed.

"What? You like Metallica."

"Not the music. I've been in suspense here for weeks. I only managed because you weren't home, but now you're here and I can't take it anymore, so spill!"

"What on earth are you talking about?"

"Rory, what did we talk about the last time you were home?"

"What? Oh." Her face fell once she realized what her mom was talking about.

"Oh no!" Lorelai said, her voice full of sympathy and concern. "It was bad?"

"It wasn't bad," Rory assured her with a sigh.

"Sad face can't mean it was good," her mother insisted.

"Well, it _wasn't_ good … because it didn't happen."

Lorelai sat in stunned silence. "Okay, you know you're allowed to just say you're not ready to talk about it, right?" she finally asked.

"Not likely after you demand that I spill, but I'm not lying."

"Seriously?"

"Seriously."

"But it's been…."

"I _know_," Rory answered impatiently.

"So, what happened?"

"Nothing _happened_. Our timing just sucked so badly it was unbelievable. Do you have any idea how hard it is for all three suitemates to be out just by coincidence? And during the weeks leading up to and including finals? Impossible!"

"Aw, hon. I bet they would have been okay with it if you'd asked them to scram one night. They could still study in a library."

"I know," Rory said with a hint of regret. "I just felt so self-conscious like I'd be shouting, 'Please clear out so we can lose our virginity!' through a megaphone. I couldn't do it."

"Oh, Rory." Her mother's attempts at suppressing a bubbly laugh were not altogether successful.

"Mom!"

"Sorry, sorry." Lorelai brought her hand up and cut it through the air in front of her face to symbolize wiping her smile away. "Understanding mother, now. Didn't Marty only have Carl for a roommate? Why didn't you try his room?"

"And have any guy who passed by his door know what we're doing? No, thank you. We could have driven somewhere secluded, but did I really want my first time to be such a cliché? Besides, I was hoping it would be somewhere comfortable and familiar. I mean, I know we're supposed to be reckless, hormone-driven teenagers, but we're just not. Who knows, though." Rory's voice was full of dry sarcasm at this point. "Maybe after our first time we'll end up doing it at Miss Patty's, no problem."

"Oh my god, she would be so proud."

Rory rolled her eyes. "The worst part of our timing is that all of my suitemates left on Thursday, so we would have had the whole place to ourselves for a couple days. Except for the fact that Marty also had to leave on Thursday since his family needed to hit the road the next day for his grandparents' 50th anniversary party slash family reunion. It's like the universe is telling us not to do it."

"Rory, you know that's not true. Maybe it just meant you weren't ready yet."

"Mom, please believe me. I'm ready." She really didn't want to go into detail about how ready she was to convince her mom.

"No, I know you're ready when it comes to Marty, but maybe you weren't ready for all the social aspects of being sexually active."

"Maybe," Rory allowed.

"This hasn't caused any problems between you two, has it?"

"Not exactly."

"That doesn't sound good."

"No, he completely understands, really. Just, after so many letdowns, it kind of became a taboo subject. I think we both resigned ourselves to the idea that it probably won't happen 'til next year, but neither one of us wanted to say so."

"Oh man, that's gonna be some kind of world record."

"Well, at least there's a silver lining," Rory droned.

"Listen, I'm so sorry it didn't work out, but it will. I promise. And when it does, I think you'll be so glad you didn't rush yourself into a situation where you'd be uncomfortable and tense. You need to do what feels right for you, you know?"

"Yeah, I do. Thanks, Mom."

"That's what I'm here for."

Rory let out a huge sigh. "Man, that was exhausting. Please tell me you have town gossip for me. Oh! How was the wedding?"

"Oh. Uh. Well, it was fine."

"Fine?" Fine was how her mother described a sub-standard haircut to the woman who just gave it to her. Fine meant it wasn't bad but it wasn't good. Fine did not go with the bright, starry look of restrained happiness that was threatening to burst from Lorelai's face right now. "Mom, you're practically glowing. That wedding was not just 'fine.'"

"It's nothing, or probably nothing, so it's not worth getting into it."

"Did something happen?"

Her mother laughed nervously. "Sort of, but not exactly."

"Out with it, already!"

"Ummm, okay." Lorelai appeared to be steeling herself for the worst. "I think I might be dating Luke."

Rory wasn't sure what she expected to hear. Certainly not that. At the same time, the news hardly surprised her. "Really?" she asked cautiously.

"I'm not sure. It's just a possibility. I could be wrong," Lorelai sputtered in a defensive rush.

A zillion thoughts zoomed through Rory's head at once. _Luke. Mom. Together. Happy. Perfect._ A deep sense of joy swelled inside Rory's heart. _History. Breakup. Friendship. Ruin. Sad. No way._ The same fears that always arose with this topic washed over her and deflated her previous excitement.

Lorelai continued explaining herself during the silence. "I swear, I didn't realize it might be a date until it was over."

She and her mom could lose more than Luke's great food if things went badly. They could lose Luke himself, and that terrified her.

"Rory, say something, please."

"Processing. Hang on." _Luke. Rory. Danish day. Broken arm. Same. _Well, maybe she would never lose Luke, but her mom still could. _Standoffs. Silent treatment. Time. Healing. Okay. Marty._ "Marty?"

"Marty?" Lorelai echoed.

"Of course," Rory whispered.

"Hon, please. I need you to make sense here."

Rory had always been afraid that her mom would screw up what she had with Luke, just like she had been afraid of screwing up her friendship with Marty. She knew now, though, that if a friendship really was worth protecting then it wouldn't fall apart just like that. Her mom and Luke had one that had already stood the tests of time and fights – real fights. They would be okay no matter what happened.

She turned to Lorelai who still seemed really concerned what her reaction would be. Had Rory prevented her mom from going for a good thing? A great thing?

"Mom. Forget anything I've ever said about you and Luke dating. Do you want to date Luke?"

"I … I … You'd really be okay with it?" Lorelai asked, incredulous.

"I asked first."

Her mom hesitated then whispered, "Yes."

"Yes?" Rory confirmed, hardly containing her excitement. That previous joy spread from her heart, out to the tips of her fingers and toes.

Lorelai let out a liberating laugh. "Yes! So wait, does this mean…?"

"I am really happy that you're dating Luke, Mom," Rory declared, her eyes sparkling.

"We're getting ahead of ourselves here, aren't we? I don't even know if this is what he's thinking."

Rory bit her tongue. She was pretty sure the hard part had been getting her mom to admit what she wanted. You didn't have to be a mind reader to figure out where Luke stood on the matter. "Right. Well, you can find that out later. Until then, tell me about this date."

"Date that might not have been a date," Lorelai corrected.

"Call it what you like. Just spill."


	29. Test Drive: Gearing Up

**AN**: I'm baaa-aaack! Once again, I made you guys wait way too long for the next installment and for that I apologize. My only defense is that I've been working on both this chapter and the next because I knew that if I made you guys wait too long after this one, I'd see torches and pitchforks advancing up my driveway. Why do I say that? You'll find out soon enough. Point is, rest assured the next chapter is not far away.

Special thank yous go to bdevils for asking how the writing was going and accidentally peer pressuring me into a writing spurt so I could give her a good answer, and my beta, Jewels12, for taking time from her sleepless school schedule to look it over (though from the sound of the class she was dealing with, maybe my chapter was a welcome break).

Enjoy!

* * *

"_Then right there, in the middle of the slide show, is a picture of my cousin dressed up like Pamela Anderson, huge balloons stuffed in his shirt and everything."_

"Nice." Rory lay on her bed, listening to her boyfriend recount the latest details of the Fischer Family Reunion.

"_We all laughed so hard it hurt. Except my aunt. She was too embarrassed."_

"Sounds like you're having a good time."

She could hear Marty's soft laugh and closed her eyes to envision the half-smile that went with it.

"_Yeah, we're having fun. How are things with you?"_

"Good. Work at the Gazette is fine. It's not the most intense news environment ever – I mean, the big story yesterday was the price hike on cucumbers. It's still experience, though."

"_What are you writing about now?"_

"I'm shamelessly plugging the opening of the inn. Mom's getting a kick of cutting out the articles because they're something for both of us to be proud of. Anyway, when do you guys go home?"

"_Well, that's part of why I called. We leave on Friday, and Uncle Jerry gave me the weekend off at the bar. And there's this bus that goes to Hartford, so–"_

"Mom! Mom!" Rory flung herself off the bed and bolted out of her room with the bottom half of her phone tilted away from her mouth to spare her boyfriend's eardrum. She found Lorelai going over her most current inventory in front of the TV, making a list of last minute purchases. "CanMartycometothetestrun?"

Lorelai looked up, startled by this sudden outburst. Then she frowned. "Babe, you know all the rooms are filled. If I bump anyone for Marty, Gypsy will kill me until I bump someone for her."

"Don't you mean 'threaten to kill?' Because once she killed you, you couldn't very well–"

"_Rory,"_ Marty bleated through her phone.

"Right. Sorry. So he won't stay at the Dragonfly. Can he still come?"

Her mom lowered her voice. "Rory, I'm going to need your help–"

"I'll still help. Marty can help, too."

Lorelai laughed at her daughter's shameless negotiations. "All right, he can come…."

Rory bounced on her toes and brought the phone to her mouth.

"But!"

Rory stopped bouncing.

"He can't stay here. I have enough on my plate without worrying about this place being guest-ready."

Sufficiently guilt-tripped, Rory ignored that minor letdown and instead chose to focus on the most important development: Marty would be there in just a few days! "Okay. Thanks, Mom." She hustled back to her room and relayed her mother's side of the conversation to Marty.

"_Okay. I think I can figure something out. Carl lives in Hartford. Maybe I can stay with him."_

"Tell him I'll bake cookies for him if he says yes," Rory said excitedly.

Marty laughed. _"I think it might be better if I told him **I'd **bake him cookies."_

"Hey, now!" Rory cried out indignantly.

"_What? You practically brag about how bad you and your mom are at cooking or baking of any kind."_

"Doesn't mean you should believe me. Anyway, just tell Carl anything to make him agree."

"_Trust me. I will."_

"Hey, Marty?"

"_Yeah?"_

"I can't wait to see you," Rory whispered.

"_Me, too."_

* * *

"Hey, you hungry?" Lane set down the game controller and headed toward the kitchen.

"Always," Rory answered.

"Well, your timing is perfect 'cause I went to the store yesterday." She knelt down, threw back a small rug, and lifted a floorboard.

"Are you kidding me?" Rory asked as Lane extracted various snacks from her hiding place. "You just got a away from the floorboard life."

"Boys will eat everything." Lane put the floor back together and rose to her feet. "I bought vanilla-almond body lotion the other day…."

"No," she said in disbelief of her friend's implication. Lane had to be joking.

"On chips – mine, by the way."

Rory reached out and accepted the small can from her friend. As Lane settled into her chair again, Rory's face grew pensive. She wanted to keep this quiet, worried about starting premature gossip. On the other hand, she just couldn't contain herself any longer.

"So, I think my mom might be dating Luke."

Lane's face froze in shock. "You've been here twenty minutes, and you drop this now?"

"Well, it's not definite, and you know what this town is like. One whiff of something like this and everyone will have their entire relationship planned out before anything really has a chance to even start."

"So why break your silence now? I mean, not that I'm not totally psyched to know something before Miss Patty, but–"

Rory leapt to her feet. "Because I'm going crazy!" She paced in front of the two chairs as Lane munched chips and gazed at her in rapt attention. "They went to Liz's wedding together, they have plans to go out this Sunday, but in between I got nothin'." Her arms flailed helplessly.

"What do you mean?"

"I've been watching them, looking for some indication of their dating status. Any meaningful glances, flirty comments, or, you know, extra … contact. Nothing's changed!" She finished with a huff and flopped back into her seat.

"I've never seen you this worked up over your mom's love life before."

Rory opened her mouth to protest then realized she couldn't. In the past, her mom kept that part of her life away from Rory, so she was pretty indifferent to their progress. She was a little more invested with Max, only not this early on. "Well, it's Luke."

Lane smiled.

"Luke's…." Rory's voice faltered, having trouble explaining why this was different for her. Her gaze dropped to her fidgeting hands.

"Special," Lane finished for her.

She looked up and saw the understanding in her friend's eyes. Slowly, Rory nodded. "Luke has always been there. For her. For me. For us. When she told me they might be dating and that she wanted to be dating him, I was so excited. I thought … I thought, 'How great is this? Now Luke will always be there.' But that can't happen if they don't start dating already!"

A ghost of a smirk crossed Lane's features. "Rory, you do realize how hypocritical you're being, don't you?"

Her forehead crinkled. "What are you talking about?"

"You took forever to make the shift from 'friends who are practically dating' to 'actually dating.' You can't give Luke a week to do the same? He's probably terrified of scaring Lorelai away. You and I both know this is eight years in the making, so what are a few more days?"

Rory stared at her friend. "When did you get to be so wise?"

Lane shrugged. "Those who can't do, teach."

* * *

Marty silenced the alarm on his phone and sat up right away, too excited to opt for a snooze. He quickly hopped into the shower so he wouldn't be in the way of Carl's family when they woke up. They were being nice enough to let him stay there the two nights surrounding the Test Run, so he did his best not to disrupt their schedules.

By 8:00 he'd dressed, unmade the couch, and eaten breakfast with Carl's dad. He was good to go except for transportation.

"Carl?" he said, knocking on a bedroom door.

"Mmfff. Go 'way."

"C'mon, man."

"Fi' more min'ts."

"See, I told you that you should've just given me the keys yesterday. Can I at least come in?"

"Fine."

Marty opened the door and stood over Carl's bed. "Look, you don't even need to get up. Just tell me where they are and you can go back to sleep."

"No way!" his former roommate objected, swinging his legs off the bed and sitting up. "A man's car is sacred. I can't just point to a key and let you go on your merry way. First you have to prove your worth, and then we can begin the ceremonial hand-off."

"Prove my…? Ceremonial…? Carl, you drive a Ford Probe, not a Ferrari."

"Says the guy with no car. To you, my Probe _is_ a Ferrari."

"Ugh. Fine. Just tell me what I have to do."

"All right, question number one: The car is teetering on the edge of a cliff. Do you jump out to save yourself and let the car fall into the canyon, or climb into the back seat to keep the car from going over and wait for help?"

"Crawl into the back seat to save the car," Marty droned, rolling his eyes at the obvious answer.

"Errnn! Wrong. The correct answer is 'I wouldn't let the car teeter on the edge of a cliff in the first place.'"

Marty shook his head at his friend, seeing where this was going.

"Question number two: The car gets a flat in the middle of a high crime neighborhood. Do you keep driving until you get to a better town, destroying the rims, or do you pull over and risk having a bunch of thugs gut the car?"

"I wouldn't drive through a high crime neighborhood in the first place," Marty said mechanically.

"Ding ding ding! And question number three: A blob of ketchup falls from your hamburger and onto the seat. What cleaning product would you use to remove the stain?"

"I wouldn't be eating in the car in the first place," Marty said in a bored tone.

"Correctomundo! Two out of three ain't bad. I guess you're just barely worthy enough."

"I'm so honored," he deadpanned.

Carl pulled on the jeans that were lying on the floor and dug the keys out of his pocket. On his way out the door, he grabbed an index card off his desk. "Okay, let's go."

"We're not doing the 'ceremonial hand-off' here?" Marty asked as they left the room.

"Of course not. I have to see my baby off."

"You're a nutcase, you know that?" Marty declared as he reached the bottom of the stairs. "Do you really put all of your friends through this before you lend them your car?"

"Only the ones desperate to see their girlfriends," Carl said with a wink.

In the driveway, Marty forced himself not to show his impatience as his friend introduced the second delay. He truly was grateful that Carl was lending his car in addition to letting him sleep over since it saved Rory the trip. Marty just wished his fellow Eli didn't enjoy making him squirm so much. Rory was only twenty minutes away … if he could just get behind the wheel!

Carl handed him the index card. "Here, read this."

Marty glanced over the tight hand writing. "Carl! I'm not gonna–"

Keys jingled tauntingly from Carl's fingers. "I can always put you through an obstacle course."

He pinched his lips together and squinted his eyes. Then he raised the card. "'I, Marty, take thee Priscilla – Really? Priscilla? – to be my temporarily borrowed ride, to have and to steer, for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in repair and in mint condition, to love and to cherish, from this moment forward, until tonight do us part.' Happy?"

Carl ignored that last bit. "With this key ring, I thee lend," he said, carefully placing it in Marty's hand. Then he opened the car door and gestured like a butler. "You may now drive my ride."

Finally, Marty slid into the driver's seat and turned the key.

Carl kissed his fingers and patted the hood of his beloved car as Marty pulled away. "Take good care of her. And tell Lorelai I said 'Hi!'"

Five minutes later, he was on the highway. Ten minutes after leaving Carl's house, Marty realized his mounting excitement gave him a lead foot and quickly backed off the gas. Eight minutes after that, he was surprised to find that Rory wasn't kidding about the rooster statue. And once the longest two minutes of the ride were over, Marty caught his girlfriend as she leaped off the last step on the porch and into his arms.

Kiss after kiss dragged out hungrily. Body pressed to body in their warm embrace. Lips smiled against lips. A self-conscious Marty peeked out to make sure Lorelai wasn't giving him the stink eye for their prolonged greeting. Fortunately, she seemed to be the most understanding mother on the planet as she was nowhere in sight. Though his fingers itched to reunite with certain aspects of Rory's body, Marty restrained himself under extreme and silent protest.

Finally, they reined themselves in and pulled apart.

As they ascended the steps, a croaky voice carried across the yard. "Now that's how you give it a little something, Sugah!"

Not seeing anyone around, Marty asked, "Uh, what was that?"

Rory chuckled. "You were just informally introduced to our neighbor, Babette."

"Does she often critique your kisses?"

"You have no idea."

Though Rory and her mom were too busy to give him a formal tour of the house, Marty at least became generally acquainted with the first floor as he helped them gather the last few items they were taking to the inn. He sat in the back seat of the jeep with the overnight bags and listened to Lorelai proudly point out various external renovations as they pulled up.

The young couple set the tables, helped the kitchen staff put out an impressive amount of food, and joined Lorelai to welcome the guests. Once the dust settled, Rory showed him around the building in a little more detail. All in all, it had been a pretty busy day so far, but getting to watch Rory's eyes sparkle as she rattled off everything her mom had done to the place made it all worth it.

* * *

Hefting a door from the truck, Dean grumbled to himself. He and Lindsay had fought, yet again, that morning. The fact that they fought frequently wouldn't be so irritating if it weren't the same fight every time.

He carried the door through the lobby. On his way to the stairs, he caught a glimpse of Rory standing outside with her mother. A guy stood next to Rory who he could only assume was her boyfriend. A few months ago, Babette and Miss Patty had been all abuzz about the fact that she had started dating someone. They made knowing comments that this must be why Rory never came home to visit anymore.

Dean lined up a screw and remembered silently agreeing with their assessment. There was a time when he thought about calling Rory to be sure she would be okay with him working at the Dragonfly, only to realize there was no need. Since the wedding, Dean only saw her around town over winter break.

Not that he was looking for her. He had a wife now.

_Wife_, he thought with a bitter scoff. _More like a nagging roommate._

He quickly frowned at himself while he checked that the door swung and latched properly. That wasn't fair. Sure, Lindsay was a bit self-centered, but it's not like Dean didn't know what he was getting into. When they were dating, he kind of liked that she wanted to be pampered and cared for. Dean liked being able to do things for his girlfriend without getting into a feminism debate. He liked that his girlfriend wanted him to be protective and feel jealous about other guys.

Well, she wanted him to be protective of _her_, and to be jealous about other guys over _her_, like any girl would. Jogging down the stairs, Dean cringed at the memory of that stupid night at that stupid party.

_As soon as he and Jess were pulled apart, he looked over at Rory, expecting to see gratitude. Instead, Dean found her horrified expression. Next, he looked over at Lindsay, and he knew he was in deep shit._

"_What the hell was that, Dean?" she demanded once the crowd thinned out._

"_What?" he asked defensively, the adrenaline still pumping through his veins. "Obviously something bad happened upstairs. Didn't you see the way she was crying?"_

"_So what?"_

"_What do you mean, 'So what?' So, I had to do something."_

"_Why? She's not your girlfriend."_

"_I know that. I was just defending her like a friend."_

_Lindsay scoffed and his jaw immediately clenched. "Friend? Please. I saw the way you looked at her just now. She's your beloved ex-girlfriend, who you're still trying to win back."_

"_No, I'm not."_

"_Dean, anytime she's around, whether it's at Luke's or a town meeting or a party, I feel like I don't even exist. Me, your actual girlfriend. Because, let's face it, you're still in love with her."_

"_Lindsay, no, I love you." He made a move to hug her and reassure her that the words were true._

_She backed away, evading his embrace. "Maybe. But you still love her more. And maybe you always will. And I deserve better than that. Don't I?"_

_Dean sensed the on-coming break up, and he stubbornly refused to let it happen. Here was a girl who loved him, who hadn't hesitated saying that she did – in fact, she'd said it first. Here was a girl that loved him so much, she was jealous of a stupid fight he'd been in. Dean finally found a girl who loved him, and he wasn't about to lose her. "Of course you do. You deserve a boyfriend who loves you more than anything in the world, and I do."_

"_I'll always be your second choice," she whispered._

_He tried again to step closer to her, and this time she let him. "No, Lindsay. You're my first choice."_

_She dropped her eyes and shook her head, unable to believe him. Lindsay opened her mouth. Dean knew he had to do something to prove to her that they should stay together, and he had to do it before she said anything._

"_Lindsay, you are my first and only choice. You're the only person I want to be with." He took her hand as he knelt down in front of her. His girlfriend's mouth was still open, only now it was suspended with shock. "Lindsay Lister, I want to love and protect you for the rest of our lives. Will you marry me?"_

"_What?" she gasped._

"_Please, say yes," he begged, his eyes searching hers. Dean needed her to say yes. He did everything he could to always be the perfect boyfriend, so she had to say yes, didn't she? He didn't know if he could survive another rejection. During the months after his break up with Rory, he had felt defective and unlovable. He tried to figure out what he did wrong that made her want that asshole more than him. And then he noticed Lindsay noticing him, and he asked her out, and slowly he started to feel a little less broken._

"_Dean … Yes. Yes, Dean, I'll marry you!" Lindsay laughed._

_He blinked up at her, taking a moment to remember what was going on. Plastering a smile on his face, Dean stood up and hugged her. Though he had wanted her to say yes, he hadn't expected her to. Now that she had he was kind of shocked. He needed a ring._

_"So, when do you want to tell our parents?"_

Dean's thoughts set his face in a dark glower and caused him to accidentally test his latest work a little too loudly. The slam jolted him out of his own reverie. With a shake of his head, Dean headed toward the staircase again.

"One sec, Jim," he mumbled, jumping down the last three steps to get out of the way of his coworker and the door he carried.

"Ah!" someone yelped to his right.

"Sorry, didn't see you there." When he finished standing up, Dean found himself face to face with a startled looking guy and a giggling Rory. "Oh, hey." Great. Just what he needed to have shoved in his face: the happy couple.

"Hey," Rory greeted. "Marty, the Mexican jumping bean here is Dean. And Dean, this is my boyfriend, Marty."

"Hi," said Marty, extending his arm.

"Hi," Dean said as they briefly shook hands. "Look, I don't wanna be rude, but I really gotta get back to work. Uh, it was nice meeting you, Marty, and watch out for Miss Patty." He gave them a tight smile and nodded his farewell.

As he turned to head back outside, Dean heard Marty's panicked whisper. "That's the third person who's told me that. What exactly is she going to try to do to me?"

When Dean reached the truck, he took a moment and gripped the cold metal of the tailgate. Lindsay's voice floated through his head.

"_Let's face it; you're still in love with her. You love her more. And maybe you always will."_

He shook his head and looked down at his shoes. Lindsay really had been wrong. Rory was a great girl, but they were just wrong for each other. They wanted different things in life and had different goals. Rory couldn't let him be the type of man he wanted to be, and Dean couldn't let her be the type of woman she wanted to be. Yes, he fought Jess for her, and maybe it _was_ to win her back, but not because he loved her. She and Jess represented the ultimate rejection: being left for another man. If he beat Jess up, and if Rory saw him as a hero, then Dean won. It was a bruised, not impassioned, heart that fought for Rory that night.

"_Lindsay, no, I love you. I love you more than anything in the world."_

Dean closed his eyes, feeling like he was going to be sick. Like Lindsay, he had been completely wrong, too. He had been sucked in by the belief that he _should_ love Lindsay, so he convinced himself he actually did.

"Dean? Are you okay?"

He snapped his head up and saw Tom walking over to him. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine. Just needed a second to catch my breath."

"Well, I'd like to get this wrapped up as quickly as possible. Lorelai just walked face first into one of these, so the sooner we get them installed the better."

"No problem, Tom."

It wasn't Lindsay's fault Dean was in this mess. Then again, how much of a mess was it, really? He knew he liked Lindsay, and she loved him. Though it wasn't the greatest foundation, it also wasn't the worst place to start. They could even talk to the reverend about counseling. Dean figured he should at least see if he could love Lindsay now that he wasn't forcing himself to think he already did.

Maybe he never should have proposed, and maybe they shouldn't have married each other. But they had, and Dean would try to make an earnest effort of it before he called it quits.

* * *

Once all the doors were in place, Rory excused herself to change her outfit. Marty playfully tried to sneak up with her, whispering promises to keep his hands to himself. Even though she giggled, he recognized the firmness in Rory's voice as she told him to stay downstairs, and he finally relented.

His wait was not pleasant. Upon learning there was an out-of-towner in the midst, a portly fellow cornered Marty by the front door and expounded on all the amazing attributes of his town, none too subtly pointing out what a fine location Stars Hollow would be for a family vacation.

_Like my dad would let me pick where we go._

Movement caught his eye and Marty turned to see Rory, dressed in a pink that matched the natural flush of her cheeks, descending the stairs. True, he had appreciated how her previous top had clung to her curves and the way her skirt had shown off her long legs. Now, though, she was absolutely lovely.

"Excuse me," Marty whispered, leaving the pushy man to join his girlfriend at the foot of the stairs.

They entered the dining room where she led him over to a table for four. He pulled out a chair for her. While he tucked it under her, Marty caught Luke's eye at the table on their left and gave him a friendly nod. Then he noticed the infamous Miss Patty next to the diner owner. She stared at Marty hungrily. Even though he still didn't know exactly what he was avoiding, he decided to take the seat on Rory's right.

Most people there were around his parents' age, but one of the younger couples joined them at their table.

"Hey, Kirk. Hi, Lulu," Rory greeted them. "Have you met Marty yet?"

"No, but I've heard of him," Kirk said without emotion and then sat down next to him.

"And we saw you outside when we arrived. It's so nice to meet you," Lulu said sweetly, taking the remaining seat.

"Nice to meet you, too," Marty said with a polite head bob.

"You go to Yale," Kirk stated.

Marty nodded then shifted uncomfortably while Kirk stared at him blankly. Most people used a bald statement like that as a lead-in to some additional comment that would actually further the conversation. Kirk, on the other hand, seemed to think _Marty_ was the one screwing up the social protocol. "Yeah, that's right."

"I thought about going to college. Then Mother said my many talents would be stifled and I would be pigeonholed into a career that didn't give my life any meaning. So how are you enjoying it?"

"Um…."

"Kirk, school just ended. They don't want to talk about that," Lulu interrupted.

The odd man nodded, agreeing with her assessment, and chose a new topic. "So, I hear Rory is your first girlfriend. How long have you been dating?"

He glanced at Rory, asking her if this guy was for real with his eyes. "Uh, about three months."

"Well, I've been dating Lulu for six and a half months. Maybe I could give you some tips later."

Marty raised his eyebrows in silence, positive that there really wasn't any way to respond to that.

* * *

Twelve steps. Twelve steps into the woods were as far as Marty could resist. He glanced over his shoulder to make sure they were well under cover then stepped off the path.

"C'mere," he whispered, giving Rory's hand a gentle tug.

"Marty, what are you–"

The lips that crashed into hers were all the answer she needed, apparently, as evidenced by the way she melted into his embrace with no further queries. His hands could wait no longer. One slid along the soft fabric of her wrap until it found purchase on her supple curves. Marty relished her delicious moan, swallowing it in his mouth.

"Sorry. I've wanted to do that all day."

She panted. "Do you hear me protesting?"

Marty steadied himself against a tree, disregarding the bark that snagged his thin sweater, instead reveling in how good it felt to have Rory pressed to him again. His head stooped to trail his lips along her delicate neck as his hand continued to massage her.

"See why you had to wait downstairs? You couldn't have kept that promise."

"You know me … so well," Marty mumbled between kisses.

Rory giggled. "I know _us_ so well. I know I couldn't have stopped you. Just like … now. Oh!"

The timing of her cry and the small fist that dug into his hair let Marty know his tongue had arrived at a particular freckle. He locked onto the spot, alternating between suckling and laving the tender flesh. She quivered against him and Marty felt her go a bit weak.

He planted a foot against the trunk of the tree so his leg could bolster her. Rory's hand gripped his thigh, sending a surge of heat through his body.

Marty sensed the danger and whimpered as he pulled away from her skin, dropping his hand to her waist. He felt Rory's fingers withdraw from his hair as he threw his head back, panting into the night air. If they continued much longer, it would be too unbearable when they had to stop. And they would have to stop. He knew Rory couldn't go missing for too long with half the town at the test run. Besides, soon he would have to drive back to Hartford.

Rory's hand grazed his neck on its way to his chest. "I really missed you," she whispered.

He chuckled ruefully as he dropped his chin to gaze at her, brushing a thumb across her cheek. "Trust me. I really missed you, too." Marty knew he was being ridiculous. They had only been apart for a week. Spring Break had been just as long. Why was it so difficult this time? He hated that he'd be leaving her in about fifteen minutes.

"Marty?" Rory asked, searching his eyes.

"Sorry. I just needed a second to cool down."

She nodded her understanding. "We still need to get those CDs."

"CDs, yes," Marty parroted, glad to have something tangible to focus on. He took her hand again and let her lead him down the path, wondering how long the task would take. If he at least left in half an hour he should still be able to get back to Carl's at a reasonable time.

He pulled Rory closer, wrapping his arm around her shoulders and feeling her arm snake around his waist. She nuzzled against his chest. Marty kissed her on the head. He asked about the books she was currently reading and happily listened to her critiques as they walked.

* * *

"So, what do you think? Phish or no Phish, and if so which Phish?" Rory asked, reading the backs of three jewel cases while Story of the Ghost played on her stereo. They had already sorted a fair number in CDs into Yes, No, and Maybe piles.

"I don't know. Is one of the guests Dr. Seuss?" Marty teased.

"Ha ha. I'm going with this one."

"Glad I could help."

Rory glanced over and noticed Marty studying her room. She smiled for a moment, wondering why he was acting like he hadn't been there that very morning, then she remembered how frenzied their last minute packing had been.

"Whoa! Is that you?" Marty asked, padding across the room to peer at a photo.

"Yes."

"What's that on your shoulder?"

"A marten," she said, joining him at the cork board. "Well, I don't know if it was a real marten, but that's what it was supposed to be. I thought it was a ferret until I looked it up. It was for a festival where we recreated famous works of art."

"You look so … 3D," he commented in awe.

"I _am_ 3D," she laughed.

"Believe me, I know. It's one of my favorite things about you," Marty said, snaking an arm around her waist and giving her a squeeze. "But this is a 2D picture of you being a 3D version of something 2D and you still look 3D. This is all very trippy."

Rory laughed and shifted herself to be in front of him. She wrapped her arms around Marty's neck to give him a kiss. Soon they were both swaying with the mellow music, though she didn't know who started moving first.

She rested her head on Marty's shoulder, listening to him quietly sing along. At one point her gaze fell on her clock. Rory closed her eyes and burrowed into his sweater, trying to forget that nearly an hour had passed since they left the inn. She thought he would have had to leave by now, yet here he was still. Not that she was complaining. It felt like that period after Spring Break when neither of them would make the move to end their night together.

Rory snapped her head up when she heard a car door close outside. Marty released her as she reluctantly stepped out of his embrace. "I guess my mom wondered what was taking us so long," she said, checking her phone to see if there were any missed calls.

"Rory!" Lorelai shouted, and a moment later the front door slammed closed.

"Yeah, in here!" she called out.

"Oh, my God. You're missing everything." Her mom's voice faded away, and Rory could hear fast footsteps moving up the stairs.

"I'll find out what's going on," she said to Marty. He acknowledged her with a nod as she walked out of the room.

"…back to the inn before you miss the cross-dressing midgets. That's where the night is headed," Lorelai rambled when Rory approached the bottom of the stairs.

"What are you talking about?" she called up to the crazy lady.

"Oh! Things are happening – big things, wow things."

"What things?" Rory trotted to the top of the stairs to reach her mother.

"I have so much to tell you," Lorelai exclaimed, gripping Rory's shoulders, the corner of a small box digging into her skin a little.

"Then tell me!" she begged, impatience getting the better of her.

Lorelai passed by her and ran down the stairs. Rory was having a hard time keeping up with her mom, both physically and mentally.

"Of course, with all my careful planning and preparation, I forgot to bring Band-aids and a camera. I have got to learn that always, without fail, Kirk equals camera," her mom said cryptically, pulling said camera from the secretary drawer. "Hi, Marty!" Lorelai chirped. "Sorry – I gotta run! Have a safe drive! Thanks for all your help!"

Rory saw Marty standing outside her room, tilting his head in confusion and giving a half wave to the blur that was her mother. She lifted her hands and shrugged, conveying her own bafflement, then turned to chase Lorelai out the front door. There wasn't even time to put her shoes back on, so she ran out onto the porch barefoot.

"Mom!" she shouted, grabbing Lorelai's arm before she reached the front steps. The door slamming shut in Rory's wake finally managed to snap Lorelai to attention. "What happened after we left?"

"The real question is: what _didn't_ happen after you left? Jason still refused to leave, Mom stormed in and fumed about her accommodations, finally admitting that she and Dad are having issues, and then they took off to go back home." Lorelai refilled her lungs and continued. "Apparently, Jason told Luke that we were still dating–"

"What?" Rory's stomach lurched. Though Jason's presence tonight had worried her, she never seriously thought he'd become such a blatant threat.

"Yeah, I know."

"But you thought you might be dating Luke."

"Yeah! I know! Just let Mommy finish. So in a very convoluted conversation, Luke asked me about Jason and about us, and I let him know things were definitely over with Jason and that I had been a little confused about what he and I were doing, and then … we kissed."

Rory hardly ever made high pitched noises like the one that escaped her right then. "Finally!"

Lorelai laughed at her daughter's uncharacteristic outburst. "Finally?"

"I've been waiting all week for you guys to figure out what's going on. This is so great! So does this mean it's official?"

"I think so."

"You _think_ so?"

"Well, we didn't do much talking after he kissed me."

"Oh jeez." Rory rubbed her arm with her hand nervously and glanced around the dark yard, looking for something to distract her thoughts. As much as she liked the idea of Luke and her mom together, she didn't really want to picture them _together_.

"No, I didn't mean – Look, he kissed me, and I kissed him, then a naked Kirk ran between us and Luke took off."

"Mom! Could you maybe _not_ put that image in my head, please?"

"Well, it sounded like you had some other images in your head, so I thought I should correct them!" Lorelai exclaimed defensively.

"For future reference, naked Kirk is much worse."

"Worse than the idea of Luke and me not talking?"

"Yes," she answered uncomfortably.

"Okay. Well, I am going to go help Luke wrangle a … vulnerable … Kirk, and then I'm sure we'll talk."

"Good."

"So … if Luke and I do talk, we might end up talking for a while," Lorelai said cautiously.

Rory shrugged neutrally, figuring that could only be a good thing. "Okay."

"I mean, we might talk for a _long time_."

"Uh-huh," she said, wondering why her mom fidgeted nervously.

"You might even fall _asleep_ before we're done talking," Lorelai said pointedly.

_Oh boy,_ Rory thought, realizing where this was going.

"That's fine!" she said with forced cheer, hoping to end the conversation. Rory then reconsidered which image really was worse: her mom and Luke either talking or not talking (she wasn't really sure which way the euphemism went at this point), or a naked –

_Nope! It's definitely still Kirk._

"In fact, it's entirely possible we could stay up _all night_ talking," Lorelai continued.

"I get it!" Rory yelped, trying to push Lorelai toward the Jeep. "I'll see you in the morning, Mom!" she called over her shoulder, fleeing into the house and shutting the door before Lorelai pressed the topic any further.

After releasing a full body shiver to reset her brain, Rory took a moment to allow her joy to bubble up again in the form of a glowing smile. Then her face dropped into a more thoughtful expression as she entered the kitchen. By the time she reached her room again, Rory was pretty sure she had taken everything into account.

She stood in the doorway, watching Marty and thinking back over the past few weeks as well as their heated moments in the woods. After being denied time and time again, Rory was hesitant to believe that opportunity was finally knocking.

"Everything okay?" Marty asked, picking up a new handful of CDs.

His question snapped her out of her reverie. "Yeah, great, actually. Hey, Marty? What if you stayed tonight?"


	30. Test Drive: High Gear

******AN**: Hello hello! Happy Christmas, Joyous Channukah, and Merry New Year! Hey, look at that … It's not 4 months after my last update. I told you I was motivated to keep pitchforks and torches from marching up my driveway :) Seriously, though, I owe a huge thank you to my beta, Jewels12 for making my fast update possible. She's so busy, and yet she is so good to us all. Thank you, Jewels!

Also, shoutout to Mags: In a review of chapter 1, she came to a certain conclusion about Rory. I promised that if I made it true I would give her credit, so this is me giving said credit :) Aoo aooooo! Thanks, Mags!

* * *

Lorelai hopped down her porch stairs with the camera and band-aids in hand and jumped into her car. On the drive back to the inn, she still needed to convince herself the kiss had actually happened. Despite the fact that telling Rory made it seem more real, she couldn't quite believe it yet.

She hit the brakes when she saw a bush shaking violently in front of Taylor's house. Lorelai rolled down her window to confirm the cause was not a Banyan boy or any other wild animal before daring to open her door.

"My bottom! My bottom!" Kirk yelped.

Lorelai put her car in park and stepped out.

"I told you not to use that word, and I'm not going to touch it, trust me. Now, will you hold still?" she heard Luke growl.

"No, my bottom … It hurts."

"Probably because you sat on a rosebush. Quit struggling and let me pull you out of there."

"Luke?" she called as she entered Taylor's yard.

"Lorelai?" Luke shot straight up and apparently dropped Kirk, judging by the howl that came from the bush. "Ah jeez. Sorry, Kirk."

"Oh wait, hold still, Kirk. Ah! No, leave the pillow there! That's a great shot," she teased as she clicked the camera a few times. When Lorelai lowered it, she saw Luke giving her a smile she couldn't help but return. She playfully snapped the camera at him, hoping she caught his expression. "You need some help there?"

"Uh, yeah. That'd be great."

Lorelai took Kirk's hand and Luke grabbed his arm so Kirk could hold the pillow in place when he rose to his feet. Luke supported Kirk while Lorelai trotted ahead to open a rear door. They carefully helped him into the backseat, ass up due to the thorns.

"Oh, god," Lorelai whined as she shut the door as fast as possible, trying to look anywhere except at Kirk's butt.

Lorelai climbed into the driver's seat and waited for Luke to close his door. She cranked the ignition. "So, back to the inn?" Though she let her foot off the brake, the Jeep moved sluggishly.

"You might want to release the emergency brake," Luke said wryly.

She had thought of that, too, so her hand was already on its way to the lever as he spoke. When Lorelai felt his hand cover hers, her head flicked up and she found Luke looking at her sheepishly.

"Sorry," Luke mumbled.

Without thinking, she moved her thumb quickly enough to lightly pin his pinky in place, preventing his hand's escape. "It's okay," Lorelai whispered.

He visibly relaxed and flashed an easy smile at her.

His thumb pressed the button and they both pulled up on the lever and lowered it. He didn't take his hand away, so she left hers in place, too. She smiled coyly as she turned her attention to the road and drove slowly through the town, one handed.

"So, you said you could explain what was up with, uh, _that_?" Lorelai nodded toward the back seat.

"Oh, right. He said he gets night terrors, which include taking off all his clothes and freaking out. He asked me to keep an eye on him so he didn't attack Lulu during the test run."

"Well, that was nice of you. Wait, he isn't going to attack me from back there or anything, is he?" she asked.

"I don't think so, but I'll handle him if he does," he assured her.

"Thanks."

When they pulled up to the Dragonfly, Luke gave her hand a little squeeze then stepped out of the car. Her hand missed the warmth of his, and Lorelai pouted briefly as she jumped out. She rushed inside to confirm the coast was clear, then returned to the door and waved Luke in.

"Should we just take him upstairs?" she asked.

"Lulu can't see me like this," Kirk mumbled into Luke's shoulder.

"But–"

"_Lulu can't see me like this!_" he reiterated hysterically.

"Okay, okay. Um, how about over here?" Lorelai whisked the throw pillows off the couch in the library as Luke eased Kirk on to it. "Oh, and here," she said, draping a nearby blanket over him. She made a mental note not to put it back out for the guests until she washed it three times.

"So…." Luke began.

Lorelai looked up at him. His proximity reminded her of the last time he stood this close to her, and her pulse pounded in her ears as she relived that embrace.

He gazed at her and completed his question. "Now what?"

"I don't know. I guess we should talk."

If Luke's eyes could ever be said to have a twinkle in them, they did in that moment as he smiled down at her. "I meant about Kirk, but good to know."

"Oh, right," she laughed. "God, I have no clue. I can't look at that again," she whispered.

"You're tellin' me."

"I'll see if Sookie can think of anything. I'll be right back. Don't … uh, don't go anywhere, okay?"

"Wouldn't dream of it."

Lorelai bounded up the stairs and knocked at room ten.

"Sookie!" she hissed. "Sookie, I need you!"

She heard some fumbling and what sounded like a chair fall over. Sookie flung the door open. "What's wrong?" she asked in panic. "Oh god, is it the bread? I was planning on checking on how it was rising in a–"

"No, the bread's fine. The whole kitchen is fine. It's Kirk that's not fine."

"Well, what else is new?"

"No, I mean … just come downstairs, please?" Lorelai begged with exasperation.

"Hey, are you okay?" Sookie asked as she followed her down the stairs.

Lorelai laughed nervously. "Yeah, I'm fine. I'm beyond fine. Wait, why do you ask?"

"Well, the whole thing with your parents and Jason…."

Lorelai stopped short on the stairs and turned to Sookie with a startled expression. "Oh my god, Jason. I still have to get rid of him!"

"No, he's gone. Michel and I took care of it."

"Oh, Sookie, you're a life saver. The pineapple kind, because that's my favorite no matter what the focus groups say." Lorelai squeezed her friend's hand and then continued down the stairs. When they arrived at the couch she explained, "He landed butt-first in a rosebush."

Sookie took a look, groaned in sympathy and disgust, and gave some orders for what she'd need.

"Hey, Luke, will you, um, help me get this stuff?" Lorelai asked.

Luke nodded and followed Lorelai to a supply closet.

She held the door open for him, closed it behind her, and leaned back against it. "We kissed," she blurted.

Luke smiled softly and dropped his eyes bashfully without saying a word.

"You and me?" Lorelai clarified. "We kissed?"

"Yeah, I remember," he said firmly, lifting his head and holding her in a steady gaze.

"It's a shame we were interrupted," she said as she pushed off the door and busily gathered some of the supplies Sookie asked for.

"Oh yeah?"

"Well, yeah. I mean, it was a great kiss. Would've been nice if it could've, you know, gone on a little longer."

Lorelai self-consciously trailed along the shelves and picked up more items than necessary. Luke's hand reached out and gripped one of the slats of wood to block her progress. She turned in her spot and looked up at him, swallowing hard to see if that would kick start her breathing again.

"So, you would have liked a little more?" Luke asked. He placed his other hand on the shelf so that his arms enclosed her. She should have felt trapped. Instead, she was exactly where she wanted to be.

_Yes! Dear god, yes!_

As if he could hear her thoughts, Luke bent his elbows like he was doing a wall push up and slowly brought his face closer to hers. A bottle of Bactine tumbled from her relaxed grip and clattered on the ground, bringing her back to reality.

_Shit. Stupid Kirk!_

She tucked her chin slightly to keep him from reaching her mouth. "Yes, I would. But we shouldn't right now," Lorelai explained. She looked up at him again. Her eyes begged him not to make her momentary resistance more difficult. "Right now I need to have Sookie patch Kirk up so we can get him back in his room. But then I'd like to talk about what that kiss meant and what, um, more kissing … would mean."

"Yeah, that's a good plan." Luke exhaled. He straightened his arms to reluctantly push away from her and then squatted down to retrieve the bottle. "Here, let me take some of that," he offered when he stood up again.

"No, I have it."

"Lorelai, you asked me in here to help. I'll look stupid if I go back out there empty handed."

"Fine. You can grab some of those towels and run them under hot water. How's that?"

"Great. I'll see you in the library then?"

"Yeah. I'll see you there." Lorelai flashed him a smile, turned the knob, and stepped out into the hallway. "Hey, Sookie. I think I got everything, and then some," Lorelai whispered as she placed the items on the coffee table.

"Oh wow, yeah. No wonder you were in there for so long."

"How's the patient doing?" Lorelai asked, ignoring Sookie's observation.

"I'm not really sure. When he's not groaning in pain, he's not making any sense."

"Luke said he's having a night terror."

"Ohhh, that would explain it. So there weren't really any assassins in his room?"

"No," Lorelai chuckled.

"Good. That would have been bad for business. And biting Luke's hand?" Sookie busied herself with cleaning some tweezers and prepping some swabs.

"That might have happened. I'm not sure."

"The only other thing he mentioned was that he saw you and Luke kissing, but I know that didn't happen."

When Lorelai didn't answer her right away, Sookie looked up from her sterilizing process. Lorelai braced herself for impact and then mouthed, 'We did.' Immediately, a handful of cotton balls flew into the air.

'What?' Sookie shrieked silently.

Lorelai pulled Sookie toward the foyer, poking her head into the hallway to make sure Luke wasn't on his way back yet. "We kissed, out on the porch, right before Kirk came streaking through," she quickly summarized in a whisper.

"Oh my gosh! What does this mean?"

"I don't know yet. We haven't talked about that, but it's on the to-do list right after getting Kirk back in bed."

"Oh, I'm so excited!" Sookie grabbed Lorelai's forearms and hopped in place.

"Me too!"

The two girls hopped together, sharing stifled squeals of delight. They quickly regained their composure and hurried to Kirk's side when they heard Luke's footsteps approach.

"Hey, sorry I took so long. I ran them under hot water, but by the time I finished the last one, the first one was cold again. So I figured I'd just fill a bowl so they'd stay warm longer."

"That's perfect, Luke," Sookie said with poorly concealed giddiness. "Oh, uh, Kirk said something about biting your hand."

"Sorry, Luke," Kirk mumbled from the couch.

"It's okay, Kirk," Luke said dismissively.

"Let me see it." Sookie barely even glanced at his hand. "Oh yeah, you should get something on that."

"What are you talking about? He didn't even break skin," Luke argued.

Sookie ignored him, grabbed a small tube and some bandaids, and handed them to Lorelai. "Here, go help him put some ointment on that."

"What about Kirk?" Lorelai asked. Though she knew exactly what Sookie was doing, even if Luke didn't, she also felt bad dumping Kirk on her friend.

"I can take care of this and make sure he goes back to his room. Go on, before that gets infected."

"Infected? It's not gonna–"

"Better safe than sorry, right, Luke?" Lorelai said, interrupting his protest. She gave him a pointed look and nodded toward the stairs.

"Oh, uh, yeah. I guess so. Thanks, Sookie," Luke mumbled awkwardly on his way out of the room.

"Yeah, thanks, Sookie," Lorelai said with a wink.

"My pleasure." Sookie giggled then turned back to her task.

"Where are we going?" Luke asked over his shoulder.

"Your room," she whispered as she followed him up the stairs, tilting her head to the side to examine his butt with an amused expression.

"Why not yours? It's closer."

"Do you really want Rory walking in on this conversation?"

"Good point."

When they reached the top of the stairs, Lorelai put a hand on his arm and brought a finger to her lips. She pointed at rooms 1 and 2, reminding him of the gossipy tenants. He unlocked his door and pushed it open for her, then followed her inside.

After Luke secured the door, he turned around. He considered flipping the light switch but preferred how she looked in the moonlight that filtered through the window.

"Hi," she said quietly.

"Hi," he answered in a low rumble. Luke moved toward her, stopping just short of being in arms reach of her. "Hey, look. I'm sorry I yelled earlier. I shouldn't have jumped to all those–"

"Luke, it's okay," Lorelai chuckled, dropping the tube and band-aids on a table. "I probably wouldn't believe it actually happened if there hadn't been some classic Luke ranting involved. So…?"

"So…."

"So, you asked me to the wedding, and invited me out to a movie, and brought me flowers, and kissed me because…."

"Because I'm trying to ask you out, Lorelai," he answered in quiet exasperation. There was a pause while she felt him study her silence. "And you said yes to the wedding and the movie, and agreed there was a moment, and you liked the flowers, and you … you kissed me back. So you…."

Lorelai took a deep breath and answered cautiously. "I'm definitely … interested, but I'm also … nervous, you know?"

"Yeah," said Luke in a resigned tone. "I figured you would be."

"Not about you, though. I mean, I've sabotaged just about every relationship I've ever had. And I'm not saying I want to do it again, but if we start dating and I screw it up … I don't think I could take that kind of fallout."

"I don't want to lose what we have now either. The thing is, that's exactly why I want us to be together. Any time you dated some guy, I hated it, and I convinced myself it was just because you were going to turn all girly and annoy the crap out of me."

Lorelai took a moment to admit to herself that when he dated Rachel or Nicole, she'd had to force herself to be the supportive friend. Because she'd hated it, too.

"But recently, I realized I was jealous," Luke continued. "If things worked out with one of those guys, I'd lose my best friend."

"Luke…."

He looked around the room distractedly, planting his hands on his hips. "Ahh, I know that sounded cheesy, but … well, it's true." With a huff, Luke stared at the bit of floor between them and shook his head at himself.

"It didn't sound cheesy."

He dropped his hands and looked up at her with raised eyebrows.

"I was just going to say you wouldn't have lost me."

"Yeah, I would've. He'd replace me. He'd clean your gutters, and hold you when you cry, and help you move Rory."

He paused to gather his thoughts, and Lorelai remembered that she hadn't liked how it felt wrong when she went shopping for Luke, and she definitely hadn't liked being so out of touch with him that she didn't even know he'd bought a townhouse.

"But … if I became that guy … I'd still get to do all those things, plus … I wouldn't have to argue with you just as an excuse to talk to you, and I wouldn't have to look away when we stared at each other too long, and I'd be able to kiss your tears away."

"Oh, Luke." Involuntarily, Lorelai took a step toward him.

"I'm not sayin' all that to talk you into dating me," he grumbled. "If you don't want to, that's … well, that'll suck, but I'd live. I just needed you to know that I've really thought about this. I'm not asking you out just because you're there and we get along. We could really work, Lorelai."

In certain ways, she agreed. But to make sure she wasn't just being swept up in his words, she considered the ways they wouldn't work. "What if we fought?"

"Oh, we'd fight, all right," he laughed. "But … we've had fights before, haven't we? Huge blowouts, in fact. And we've always worked it out, right? Doesn't that give us a good chance that we'll just keep working things out?"

Lorelai felt a soft laugh bubbling up inside her and failed to suppress it.

"What?" Luke asked.

"I think this may be the first time in history that you've talked more than I have, outside of a rant at least."

"Well, this may be the first time I've really had something important to say."

"Mmm. I have something important to say, too."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

Lorelai rested her hands on his chest and leaned up toward him. She felt Luke's hands steady her at her waist as he stepped closer, eliminating the small gap that remained between them. Her hands slid up his chest and around to the back of his neck as they pulled each other into another kiss. Without any need for tongues begging lips for entry, they opened themselves to each other and slowly deepened the kiss. He squeezed her tightly, and while his hands would adjust slightly to their movements, they never left her back.

She realized it felt like ages since Luke had first kissed her, when really it was only about an hour or so. And yet, the way they held each other and tasted each other felt so natural, as if they had been doing this for years. Lorelai marveled at the way she was feeling seduced, even though his tender caresses couldn't really be categorized as seductive. Her heart pounded and her breath came out in pants, as if they had been kissing in a frenzy rather than with slow and steady longing.

Though she didn't want to stop, Lorelai was grateful when he pulled his mouth away since it gave her a chance to catch her breath.

"Does this mean I can still take you out tomorrow night?" Luke asked between soft kisses.

"You better," she teased. "Otherwise, I'll seem pretty easy."

He guffawed, reining in his belly laugh. "You are in no way 'easy.'"

"Careful," she cautioned, pulling back a little so Luke had to chase after their next kiss. "So, does this mean you're my boyfriend?"

"Only if this means you're my girlfriend."

"Hmm, will I get to wear your letter jacket, Butch?"

"Only if you promise never to call me 'Butch' again."

Lorelai gasped. "Do you really have one?"

"Well, I _had_ one, so it must be around somewhere."

"Oh, you so have to find that now."

"Now-now?"

"Well, no, not _now_. I really don't want either of us to go anywhere tonight," she whispered into another kiss.

"Do you mean that?" he murmured. "Can you really stay here tonight?"

"I could," Lorelai whispered. "Do you want me to?"

"I do, but not for, you know. I just want you here, with me. Will you stay?"

She didn't want to be the kind of woman who compared men, but how could she avoid it with such a stark contrast? It wasn't that long ago that she had a man who would 'sleep with' her but wouldn't actually sleep with her. And now, here was Luke, asking her to stay, and all he wanted to do was sleep with her. It was such a simple, chaste request, and yet her entire body felt flushed with desire. "Yes, Luke. I'll stay."

"Good." He smiled.

* * *

"Hey, Marty? What if you stayed tonight?"

"What?" Marty scoffed absently. "I can't do that."

"Why not?" he heard Rory ask as he continued to flip through the jewel cases.

"Because your mom said I couldn't. She'd want the house guest-ready, remember?"

"What if I were here to attend to all your guest-like needs?"

He froze. There was a moment of silence while the disc changer swapped CDs.

Time and time again, Marty had let his hopes soar only to have them crash back to Earth and shatter into pieces. Cautiously, he turned to see her standing in the doorway. "Look, I'm not trying to add any cons to your list here, but you're sharing a room with your mom. She'll notice if you don't go back."

"No, she won't. I think I can safely bet my unabridged dictionary that she'll be with Luke all night."

Marty pinched his eyes closed. "Ignoring that. Focusing on us." He gazed intently at Rory again and took a step closer to her. "You sure this will be okay?"

"I'm sure," she whispered, shutting the door and moving toward him.

"I don't need to worry about her bursting in here with a butcher's knife?" He twined his arms around her waist. A moment later her hands were gliding up his biceps.

"First she'd have to _find_ the butcher's knife. Even if she could, though, we talked about this and she's okay with it."

"There won't be any music for the inn."

"They'll live."

"I … I still …." He closed his eyes and rested his brow against hers. It was killing him to bring up road blocks, but if this wasn't going to happen, Marty would rather know now. "I still have to leave in the morning. There isn't another bus 'til Monday."

"All I care about is that you can stay the night. I mean, if this had happened at school, one of us would have to get up for class anyway."

"This is a little different."

"I know," she said, and a small shrug later Rory lifted her head and smiled. "I already factored that in. Besides, if you did stay then the whole town would know what we were up to. So it's partially for the best."

Marty beamed at her. He should have known that his expert planner would be ten steps ahead of him. Finally, he relaxed against her and placed a soft, warm kiss on her lips.

It was as if the past hour hadn't occurred and they were still kissing in the woods. Only now there was no danger of passing the point of no return. Marty no longer had to resist the impulse to get one layer closer to her skin.

His hand sought out the ends of the bow at her waist and slowly unwrapped her. This time when he cupped Rory and swept a thumb over her breast, Marty could feel her hardened nipple beneath the fabric of her dress.

She reached under his sweater, gathering fistfuls of T-shirt in her hand and untucking it.

The lyrics of the next song floated through Marty's head and completely distracted him from the pleasant things their tongues were doing to each other. He laughed against her then pulled his lips away.

"Okay, we have to do something about this music."

"Why? Ooo, maybe it could be our song," Rory teased.

Marty shook his head and insisted, "Our song is not going to be The Candyman."

"Why not? It's perfect. It's happy. It's hopeful. It has the word 'candy' in it. Hey, what is hotter than candy?"

"You, for one. I'm picking something else." He stepped over to the stereo and grabbed a particular CD from the 'yes' pile. As he juggled discs, Marty pulled out his phone and started clicking buttons.

"What are you doing?"

"Trying to send Carl a text. Oh crap, sorry," he said as he stooped to pick up the case he just dropped.

"Here, let me," Rory offered.

Marty handed his phone over and turned back to the stereo.

"What do you want me to say?"

"Anything. I just don't want his family to wait up and worry," he said. Marty was in the middle of setting up the CD to shuffle while she clicked away on his phone.

"Sleeping … over … Send … condoms … wink."

One of Marty's fingers hovered over a button when he snapped his head to her. "What!"

"What?" Rory asked, opening her eyes wide with well-practiced innocence. "Didn't you say 'anything'? Plus, I had to sound like a guy."

"No, you had to sound like _me_. Please tell me you didn't seriously send that."

"I didn't … _yet_," she said with a wide grin.

"You wouldn't."

"I might."

She wouldn't, would she? Rory had gone to such great lengths to keep their activities private. Why would she stop now? There definitely was that impish glint in her eye, though.

He quickly pressed the last couple buttons then put out a hand to take his cell back. "Here, I'll write it."

"No, I think this is good. I just need to find his name in your contact list."

"Rory, don't," Marty protested, reaching for the phone.

"Oh, there he is," she said. She rolled around the corner of the bed to evade his grasp.

"Look, we both know you're bluffing," he said as he chased her around the furniture.

"'Are you sure you want to send this message?' Yes," Rory said, poising her finger over one of the buttons with an exaggerated flourish.

"No!" he cried desperately. Marty lunged and grabbed her wrists to stop her. They toppled onto the bed together, and as he wrested the phone from her, he heard the distinct chimes of a sent text. "Crap!" Marty yelped while she giggled. "How can you be laughing?" he demanded.

Rory tried to answer him, but her words were incoherent thanks to her growing peals of laughter. Instead she took the device back and navigated to his outbox to display the message.

_Someone didn't show so I'll be joining the test run. See you in the morning!_

"I can't believe you actually thought I could send something like that," Rory choked out.

"I can't believe you _lied_ to me, and so well," he said, pretending to be hurt.

"Mmm, I'm sorry," she said with a small pout as she stroked his cheek with her hand.

"No, you're not," he laughed and kissed her protruding lower lip.

"No, I'm not," she agreed. She pulled him closer, and Marty willingly followed, dipping his tongue into her mouth as he kissed her hungrily.

* * *

"Yes, Luke. I'll stay."

"Good." He smiled. When Luke dipped his head to kiss her again, her fingernails tickled paths across his scalp.

He slipped one hand under the hem of her top, rubbing it across the soft skin of her lower back. All the years of repressed longing consumed him. Luke had to grip her tightly to prevent himself from tearing off her clothes to access more of her tantalizing flesh.

He wasn't controlling himself for her sake. Luke could tell by the way Lorelai moved against him and the hot breaths that escaped her that she was ready and willing should he decide to advance their activities. The thing was, Luke wanted more than her body. He wanted _Lorelai_. All of her. He wouldn't risk that for any immediate pleasures.

"Hey," he whispered.

"Hmm?" Lorelai hummed, her eyes bleary from having been closed for a while.

"I meant to tell you earlier … You did a great job tonight."

She smiled shyly at him and shrugged one shoulder. "It was a group effort."

"Yeah, a group you orchestrated. You made this happen. You have a lot to be proud of."

Lorelai beamed, dazzling him with her smile. "I couldn't have done it without you."

"Nah, I know you. You would have found a way to get a loan somewhere."

"I'm not just talking about the money, Luke."

He looked down at her in his arms, questioning what she meant. Memories of various discussions, advice, and encouragement returned to Luke, and his chest swelled with pride. "I was happy to help. Always will be." Luke kissed her lips, then her cheek. "Well, if you're going to be amazing tomorrow, too, you probably need your sleep."

Lorelai nodded, and her eyes darted to the door. "All my stuff's–"

"I hear they have really great robes here," Luke blurted. He didn't want to chance Rory or any of the guests making Lorelai change her mind about coming back to his room.

Her eyes danced, clearly amused by his eagerness. "Hmm, yes. We should test those out."

"It would defeat the whole point of the Test Run if we didn't." Luke stepped away from her and pulled the robes from the closet hangers. He handed one to her. She tossed it on the bed.

The next thing he knew, Lorelai was lifting the hem of her top. It took all of his willpower to reach out and put a hand on her wrist.

"Uh. You should probably change in there," he said, nodding toward the bathroom.

If she undressed in front of him, there was no way Luke would be able to restrain himself.

Lorelai eyed him. "You sure?"

Luke could only swallow and nod his head. He watched her disappear behind the door and saw the strips of light dance over the threshold, indicating her movements.

He quickly pulled his sweater and T-shirt over his head and tossed them on a chair. Luke then shoved his arms into the robe and unbuckled his belt while kicking off his shoes. He removed his pants, but left his boxers on. As he pulled off his socks, he heard Lorelai call his name.

"I left my robe out there. Could you get it for me?"

Luke turned to the bed and saw the thick white fabric. He looked at the door again, his heart pounding. She was on the other side, and if she wasn't completely naked then she was at least almost there.

"Luke?"

"Uh, yeah. No problem."

He picked up the robe and arrived at the door in three strides. It opened a few inches and a long creamy arm reached out through the slice of bright light. Luke's free hand gripped the trim to resist the urge to push the door open farther. He placed the fabric in her waiting hand and watched her slender fingers close around it.

"Thanks," Lorelai whispered.

"No problem," he said. His voice was unexpectedly husky.

When the door closed, Luke felt lost in the semi-darkness. Suddenly, he realized he was standing there with his chest and boxers exposed. Luke hastened to wrap the white cloth around him tightly and tied the belt securely just as Lorelai emerged from the bathroom.

She stroked the fabric on her arm luxuriously. "Miss Patty was right. I may never want to get dressed again."

Luke quirked one eyebrow at her and imagined Lorelai lounging around his place in nothing but this glorified towel. Then he imagined her in nothing but a towel. Luke quickly started reciting baseball stats in his head.

As they crawled into bed, he noticed her robe shift and quickly averted his eyes. If Luke had to see another bathrobe slip, indeed his poor little heart wouldn't be able to take it, though for an entirely different reason this time.

He leaned on his side and propped himself up on an elbow. Lorelai mirrored him playfully. Luke reached over and brushed several locks of wavy hair off her neck. His fingers grazed the velvety skin and felt it vibrate when she practically purred.

Luke smoothed his hand over her shoulder, down her side, and stopped in the valley that was her waist. He leaned forward and kissed her full lips. Their movements were slow and sensual as their tongues brushed against each other.

He pulled on her waist and tilted her closer to him. Luke lost himself in the taste, scent, and feel of her, hoping he could live among them forever.

Eventually he had to admit that the time for sleep was upon them. Luke broke their kiss and rolled onto his back, glad that Lorelai leaned with him and rested her head on his shoulder. His arm curved around her neck and draped down her back, cradling her.

"Is this okay?" Luke murmured.

"This is perfect."

He smoothed his free hand over her hair and kissed the brown waves. "Good night, Lorelai."

"Good night, Luke."

* * *

As he slowly drew the zipper down her back, Rory's skin flushed with anticipation. She considered the fact that she used to think this would be scary. Instead, kissing Marty and preparing for what was coming felt like the most natural thing in the world now.

She felt both straps slip off one shoulder. Marty pulled the fabric lower, exposing her breast only for the moment it took his hand to cover it. His lips hummed against hers in obvious appreciation which flattered Rory to no end. Feeling her hardened point strum along his fingers forced her to release a throaty moan.

"I don't think I'll ever get over how velvety soft you are," Marty whispered.

"Ditto."

Marty lifted his face from hers. "I'm not velvety."

"At least one part of you is," she said with a smirk.

He shook his head and rolled his eyes, changing the subject with another kiss. His fingers moved from her skin to fumble at her cleavage.

"This one's in the back," Rory whispered helpfully. Though she arched off the bed, his unskilled hands struggled in the tight space.

"Can we turn over?" he asked.

He accidently pinned her dress a couple times, but soon Rory was straddled over him. A moment later, the clasp sprang apart and Rory saw Marty try to hide his smug smile. She had to give it to him; he was getting better at this one-handed unhooking business. Through the holes of her sleeveless dress, Marty pulled each bra strap down her arms in turn and tossed the lacy garment to the floor.

"Mmm, that's much better," he said, squeezing her more freely. Marty's other hand glided down the light fabric of her dress and then up the skin of her thigh.

Rory kissed him more fervently as both of his thumbs swept back and forth, one along her inner thigh and the other over her nipple. With a small farewell squeeze, Marty withdrew one hand to join the other under her skirt. Soon he was gliding both palms over her hips, up her waist, and along her ribs, pushing the fabric up with them.

Rory pulled away from him to sit up and felt her dress dance over her body as she tugged it over her head and tossed the pink material aside. Marty put his hands on the bed and pushed himself up. Wrapping his arms around her, Marty tilted his head to kiss her.

"Hmm, is this what it feels like to be you?" he asked from this rare angle.

"Probably," Rory murmured absently as Marty moved his kisses to her neck.

He tucked his hands under her hips and urged her up to her knees, kissing down her skin while she raised herself. She was certain it was no accident that her breasts ended up in a perfect position for Marty to gently trace his tongue around one of her nipples. The lips of his open mouth grazed her flesh. Rory's fingers clawed the back of his sweater as his lips closed on her and began suckling. Time seemed to stand still while she let these sensations take her over.

"Marty," she finally groaned.

"Mmm," he hummed against her tender skin.

"Marty!" she said with a little more frustration.

He pulled back and looked up at her. "Yes, m'dear?"

"Are you going to help me or not?"

"Help you what?"

"I've been trying to take your sweater off for the past, I don't even know how long. Am I going to have to get you really, really drunk and start calling you 'Johnny' to get you naked?"

"Oh, please don't," Marty begged with a laugh. "Besides, it wasn't because of that girl … It was the roomful of people chanting, remember?"

"Well, I'm not inviting a roomful of people in here."

"Trust me, I don't need them." Marty leaned away from her a bit which gave her room to tug his sweater and T-shirt over his head. "Happy?"

"Hmm, almost." Rory reached between them and worked on his belt.

Marty put his hands on the bed to recline further, a suppressed smile pulling at the corners of his mouth.

"What?" she asked self-consciously.

"I'm just not used to having someone take my pants off for me. Don't worry, though. I think I'll get used to it."

"Oh, however will you manage?"

Marty flashed her a toothy grin. "Practice."

This time it was Rory's turn to shake her head and roll her eyes. When she moved to the side and gripped the waistband, he lifted his hips for her.

"Oh! Hello!" Rory said as she exposed the prominent tent in his boxers.

"You sound surprised that I might be turned on by all this," Marty said dryly as he wriggled his legs out of his pants and pushed off his socks.

Rory wasn't able to continue staring at his crotch due to the arm that wrapped around her and pulled her over the smooth chest that lay in front of her. Her body, cool from his tongue's attention, took pleasure in molding itself against his heated skin.

"Not surprised … You just always … kept your pants on … so I never…," she whispered between kisses.

Marty rolled them over and kissed her deeply, pressing his erection against her panties. His lips left hers and Rory opened her eyes to see him smirking down at her. "You were saying?"

"Not important," she mumbled, burying her fingers in his brown curls to urge him into another kiss.

She felt his lips move to the corner of her mouth, along her jaw line, and up behind her ear. Rory's hands smoothed down his back as he teased and tasted her neck. She writhed beneath him, tiny whimpers escaping her each time he created a particularly delightful sensation.

Rory wanted more and needed him to know it.

Her fingers dipped into Marty's waistband and pushed his boxers over his cheeks. He shifted his weight to his knees and together they worked his last article of clothing off. Rory gazed down their bodies, finally seeing Marty in his full glory. She giggled.

"Rory, do I really need to tell you that laughing at a guy at a time like this doesn't exactly do wonders for his ego?" he playfully scolded as he crawled on top of her again.

"Sorry, I'm just remembering the last time I saw Naked Guy. Back then, I had no idea this was going to happen."

"Believe me, neither did I," he murmured against her lips.

His mouth returned to the base of her neck, picking up where it left off a short while ago. Continuing down over her collarbone, Marty trailed kisses to the breast he had ignored earlier. Rory felt him shift on the bed. Through heavy lidded eyes, she saw him move his knees over her leg and stretch out along her side. When he drew on her nipple deeply, her eyes squeezed tightly and she released a moan that conveyed the intensity of her pleasure.

Marty's hand smoothed over her skin until it reached her panties, first tugging at one hip and then the other. Rory raised her knees so he could slide the moist scrap of fabric along her legs and over her toes.

He let his palm glide along the inside of her leg as she straightened them onto the bed again. Everywhere he touched her, a quiver followed in his wake. Marty trailed over her curls lightly, and then again with a little more pressure. On their third trip, his fingers parted her slightly and grazed over her lips.

Rory whimpered and writhed beneath him, letting her body tell him how much she approved of his attention.

His fingers then dipped between her folds, through the pool of desire that had collected at her entrance. Instantly, she felt Marty throb against her thigh. A languid smile slowly stretched across Rory's face. She loved the effect her arousal had on him.

He coiled his calf around hers, and she let the weight of his limb part her legs further.

Marty stroked gently along the length of her entrance and each time he brushed over the smooth spot that was just_ teasingly_ shy of her clit, she released a soft pant. When his lips lost contact with her breast, Rory's brief whimper morphed into a series of gasps because his tongue darted out and flicked over her nipple in time with his fingers movements.

Rory made soft mewling sounds, begging him for more. Thankfully, Marty was fluent in mewling. He focused his efforts on rubbing the smooth spot as her moans rose in pitch. Slowly, he worked his way higher until his finger was circling her swollen bundle of nerves and his tongue traced around her nipple.

As much as she was reveling in his breathtaking caresses, Rory knew she would be lost if he kept them up much longer.

"Marty." Her voice was soft and low and unwittingly inviting. She pawed at Marty's shoulder blade, trying to coax him up.

With a reluctant moan, he withdrew his mouth from her hardened nipple and pulled his hand away from her with one final flick over her clit.

"Yes, my dearmph?" Marty asked, his last word muffled against her lips.

Her tongue pressed into his mouth urgently, swirling past his as she drew on him deeply.

Marty knelt over her and brought his other leg between hers. He broke the kiss and touched her cheek, sweeping his thumb over her skin. "Rory?"

Her eyes fluttered open in response.

"Did you want to be on top?"

Logic, reason, coherent thought were all impossible tasks at the moment. Luckily, Rory had considered her options ahead of time. She shook her head.

Marty nodded and closed his mouth over hers again as he lowered himself onto her. Her appreciative moans, which he swallowed hungrily, immediately turned into excited gasps due to the way his swollen head slid back and forth over her sensitive bud. Returning the favor, Rory shifted her hips, sliding along his length and coating him in her juices. She smiled triumphantly when he groaned.

He reached to his back and brought one of her hands down to his cheek. "You're in charge, okay?" he said in a husky whisper.

It amazed her how many ways Marty could take her breath away. When Rory decided on this position, the fact that Marty would be in control had been quickly outweighed by how much she trusted him to be gentle. To hear him acknowledge this concern and give her the control? Her face shined up at him, radiating her adoration. "Okay."

Marty leaned down to brush a kiss on her lips and then adjusted himself so he was poised at her entrance. With anticipation and desire mounting together, Rory's hand briefly pressed into his flesh.

"Oh," she sighed as just his tip parted her, stretching her skin in a way she never imagined would feel so good. Marty's hips rotated so that she felt him move inside her without going deeper.

"You're so warm," he moaned.

"So are you."

She applied pressure again, and Marty sank a little further into her, still massaging her in this shallow depth. The next time Rory urged him deeper, he surprised her by pulling out instead.

She hummed a small whine against his lips. "Hey … you said I was in ch– Oh!"

The cause of this exclamation was his slippery tip running around her clit for a moment. Rory's pulse kicked into high gear again, which made her realize how much it had slowed down during their calmer ministrations.

"Just wanted to make sure everything was getting enough attention," Marty explained.

"Mission accomplished."

He slid inside her again, going a little past his previous depth. She punctuated his rotations with pleasant gasps which were timed with his shaft brushing past her smooth spot.

Rory's fingertips coaxed him further, and this time he instantly complied.

Suddenly her whole body tensed up and Rory threw her head back to suck in a sharp gasp which matched the sharp pain that shot through her. Everything – breathing, movement, time – was put on hold. She felt suspended somewhere between pleasure and pain, waiting to see which side she would land on. Slowly, tension melted away from her, starting at her forehead and working down her body like a steady wave of relaxation.

When she opened her eyes, she saw Marty frozen over her, searching her face with worried eyes. The wave passed over her shoulders.

"I'm okay," she reassured him. It continued across her abdomen.

"Are you sure?"

Only when she felt her muscles relax around him did Rory realize how tightly they had been clamped. She smiled, glad to feel the urge to move again. "I'm sure." Her hips began rotating against him once more, and his followed suit.

Rory pulled on him again, only this time she didn't relieve her pressure so he continued to sink deeper until he was completely inside her. Now as he moved, Marty ground against her, massaging her swollen bud along with her uncharted depths.

Their kisses were light, which allowed them room to pant softly against one another.

"Hi," he whispered.

"Hi," Rory answered.

Marty moaned. "Just so you know, you feel really good."

"So do you."

Rory's hands climbed up his spine again to let him know he was in charge now. He pulled slightly from her and slid back in, moving in and out of her with short strokes. Her fingers kneaded his skin in time with his movements.

"I love you, Rory."

"I love you, too, Marty."

Gradually he lengthened the strokes, always sinking in to his full depth and rubbing against her sensitive bundle of nerves. Rory panted along, letting out little barks of pleasure every once in a while.

"Rory," he choked out. He seemed to struggle to remain in command of his body.

"I'm close, Marty," she reassured him.

He shifted his angle so that his full length glided along the base of her clit while he steadily thrust into her. Her walls tightened around him as she hurtled closer to the edge.

"I can't…," he gritted out desperately.

She felt Marty swell inside her, amplifying his movements. "Oh! You – I'm – Oh!" Rory gasped in surprise as she began to lose control.

Marty sank into her, grinding against her in short upward thrusts as he pumped his release into her. Rory wrapped her legs around him to gain the leverage she needed to circle her hips against him wantonly. She arched off the bed with a jerk, and soon Marty's moans of ecstasy were drowned out by her climactic howls. When she came down, Rory smiled as each of her throbs were met with a twitch of his muscle.

"Holy shit," Marty murmured against her neck once he caught his breath enough to speak.

"I concur," she panted. "And before you ask, yes, I liked that."

"Yeah, I uh, I _heard_," he teased.

"Sorry," Rory said a little sheepishly.

"Don't be. I've just never heard you that loud before."

"Well, I always had to be quiet," she explained defensively. "I told you I _wanted_ to scream."

"Yeah, but your neighbors…."

"Are all at the inn, so there's nothing to worry about."

Marty smiled down at her. Try as he might to hide it, Rory could detect the smugness behind his curved lips.

"What?" she asked.

"I made you scream," he bragged and then kissed her hard to prevent a playful denial.

All she did was laugh while she kissed him back.

* * *

******AN**: And now for a very bittersweet author's note. Jewels12 and I have decided that she no longer needs to be my beta. I find myself feeling a bit like Jane and Michael Banks, or perhaps Pete, watching my nanny/dragon fly away to take care of other potential charges. One the one hand, I'll miss her support and feel a bit insecure about watching her go. On the other hand, I would like to think she wouldn't leave me to my own devices unless I was ready for it. Here's hoping she's right and none of you readers notice the difference in future chapters.

Jewels, the GG fanfic world will never know how much you had to put up with from me (well, Mags might have an idea). I am so grateful for your guidance, corrections, tutelage, inspiration, enthusiasm, suggestions, and unending patience. My stories would have been so much less without you. I sincerely thank you for making me a better writer.


	31. Domino Effect

**AN:** Ahoy there, maties! I hope all is well with you. I know, I know, I've been a bad girl not updating for so long. I hope this chapter is well worth the wait! Thanks, bdevils, for letting me bounce some ideas off you!

* * *

She felt the pull of consciousness and resisted with all her might. This was such a good dream that she couldn't bear to let go. Her arms tightened their hold on the imaginary body next to her, her head burrowed deeper into its warmth.

When the phantom arm around her hugged in response, her eyes shot open. The solid chest before her was quite real, as were the few tufts of manly hair peeking out of the terry cloth V.

Memories stepped out of the sleepy fog and took shape. A smile spread across her face and she tipped her chin up to see Luke watching her thoughtfully.

This was better than a dream.

The rumble of his "Mornin'" hummed along the arm she had draped across him.

"Good morning to you. How long have you been up?"

Luke shrugged. "About an hour."

Lorelai's eyes widened in horror. "How have you not fallen back to sleep out of sheer boredom?"

"Oh, I had plenty of entertainment," he said with a wry smile.

An eyebrow rose to ask a question that wouldn't be answered. A door slamming shut captured both of their attentions. Lorelai reflexively pinched the neck of her loosened robe closed and slid her leg back under its folds before she realized it must have been someone else's door, not Luke's.

"I have to go. They're waking up." She rose from the bed and darted to the chair that held her pile of clothes. "Oh god. How am I going to do this?"

"What are you talking about?" Luke asked, standing up to join her. "It's not that much to carry. I can help if you–"

"NO! No, you can't. If I go out there like this, people will make assumptions, especially if I'm carrying my clothes from last night, and especially _especially_ if _you're_ carrying them. But if I change into them, that'll be just as bad. No, here's what we do. These…." She gathered up her clothes and shoes and stuffed them behind the ironing board in his closet. "…will go here for now. You're going to check the coast is clear, then I'll go out and walk backwards to my room."

"Backwards?"

"Yeah. That way if anyone pops into the hallway I can immediately change gears to walk forward and it won't look like I just left your room. No one will suspect anything!" Lorelai's face, which had lit up with the triumph of her foolproof plan, fell when she saw his serious one stare back at her.

Luke nodded. "And that would be a bad thing."

It was like a punch to the gut realizing she'd hurt him. Lorelai stepped toward him and whispered, "Luke, no. I just don't want the whole town finding out like _this_."

He looked at her hopefully. "But you do want them to find out."

"Of course!" she said. And she did, though part of Lorelai was terrified of the barrage of nosy questions that was sure to follow.

Luke's face relaxed into an easy smile. "Okay. Then how?"

A helpless laugh escaped her lips. "I have no idea."

He pulled her against him and wrapped an arm around her waist. Luke's free hand delicately touched her neck as he leaned in teasingly close. "What if when I come downstairs, I call out that I'm leaving? And when you say goodbye, we just…."

The last inch between their lips disappeared into sweet bliss. Lorelai's hurry to leave was replaced with an entirely different kind of rush; the kind that started at her curled toes, surged up her thighs, and ignited her insides.

When they finally broke apart, Lorelai chuckled at the many shades of red Luke would turn if they actually shared that kiss in front of everyone. "Just like that, huh?"

The corner of Luke's mouth twitched. "Maybe a little more toned town."

"Should we practice?"

"Didn't you have to leave?"

"Trying to get rid of me already?"

"Never could, never would, and never will," Luke said softly.

Lorelai's lids fluttered as another rush consumed her, except this one originated at her heart. "Sounds like a plan," she whispered.

"Good. I'll see you in a few, then."

A minute later, Lorelai latched her door and thanked God her backwards trek had been uneventful. She scurried to put on her pants and light blue top, then frantically fixed her hair in the bureau mirror. Suddenly, she froze, staring at the background of her reflection.

Lorelai turned around and carefully eyed the other twin bed. She lifted a corner of the cover to find the sheets perfectly folded. It was too early for her staff to have been through, and Rory wouldn't have bothered to make the bed with this level of precision, would she?

In the bathroom, Lorelai found nothing disturbed. There wasn't a drop or watermark anywhere on the sink and the toilet paper was still folded in a point.

She returned to the bedroom and reached for the zipper on Rory's bag, wanting to see if her PJs and today's outfit were left untouched.

As if the pull tab were molten hot, Lorelai snatched her hand away. No, she didn't need to snoop to get proof of her suspicions. Rory would tell her. Wouldn't she?

Lorelai dropped into an armchair, stunned. Then, to her surprise, a bark of laughter burst out of her. Another followed until she was doubled over from the pain of laughing so hard.

She found it hysterical that even though they'd both spent the night in bed with a man, Lorelai herself – pregnant at 15, mother at 16, balcony romping at 32 – had seen less action than her own endearingly uptight daughter.

* * *

Rory's eyes fluttered open and she pressed a button on Marty's phone to snooze the alarm. His face was only inches from hers, squished against their shared pillow so that his lips made a relaxed fish-face. She giggled and kissed those mushy lips until they started to firm up as he came to.

"Hey," he said in a croaky voice.

"Hey, yourself."

Marty shifted from his stomach to his side to hold her closer. As his hand smoothed down her bare back and supple cheek, Rory felt his lips tighten into a wide smile.

"You realize I'm going to have expectations, now," he murmured.

Rory's brow furrowed slightly. He wasn't about to become one of those guys who took sex for granted, was he? "Expectations?"

"Sleeping in the nude is going to be a must from here on out, of course."

Her eyebrows relaxed and she let out a soft laugh. "Well, I can't argue with that plan." Rory leaned away from him just enough to slip a hand between them and close her fingers around his semi-hardness.

"Are you trying to start another round?" Marty teased playfully.

That hadn't been her intention, but now, feeling Marty become firmer in her hand, having her nipples graze his chest, kissing him deeply, Rory glanced over to her clock. "What time does your bus leave?"

His gaze followed hers. "Oh crap!" Marty leapt out of bed and started pulling on clothes at an incredible rate.

Rory was completely bewildered. "What?"

"I'm late!"

"But the alarm only went off three minutes ago."

"Yeah, and I set it when I thought I'd be waking up at Carl's."

"Oh crap!"

"This is what I'm saying."

During the next minute they both ran around her room, simultaneously tugging clothes into place and looking for anything that belonged to Marty.

They rushed out of the house, not even caring to check if anyone was around to see this. Marty dove into the car and cranked the engine.

"Let me know if you catch the bus," she said at the open door while he frantically buckled himself.

"I will. I'm sorry I'm flying out of here."

"It's okay. I love you." Rory leaned in and kissed him hard.

"I love you, too."

She stepped away and he slammed the door shut. Marty sped down the driveway, waving an arm out the window as he turned onto the street. Rory waved back until she couldn't see the car flickering through the trees anymore. She made her way up the porch steps and into the house, thinking she could take a minute to catch her breath. Unfortunately, the second Rory's butt hit the couch, she popped right back up again.

_The test run!_

And just like that, Rory was off and running again. Her hairbrush repeatedly clattered on her dresser as her fingers worked her hair into a tight ponytail. She brushed her teeth in record time and threw on some lip-gloss. Over by the door, Rory jammed her feet into a pair of sneakers in preparation for a jog through the woods.

She bobbed and weaved to keep the branches from snagging her hair or clothes. All the while, Rory charted her path into the inn. The back way through the kitchen would be best. The new staff didn't know her enough to wonder where she'd been, and Sookie would be so focused on breakfast that Rory could probably tap her on the shoulder and still go unnoticed.

When Rory stepped through the door, she found she was mostly right. The staff was buzzing around, paying no mind to her, and Sookie was indeed very focused, though not on the food preparations. She was leaning out the doorway and craning her neck to see something at the other end of the hall.

Rory crept up behind Sookie and followed her gaze. The hallway was completely empty. "What are you doing?"

"I don't want to miss it," Sookie whispered without turning around; without even blinking, it seemed.

"Miss what?"

"She said they had it all planned out and it's gonna happen any second now."

"What's gonna–"

"Shhh! There he is!"

Luke came down the stairs and dropped his bag by the front door. He appeared to take a deep breath and then called out, "Hey, Lorelai?"

Her mother's voice drifted out of the dining room. _"Yeah, Luke?"_

"I'm heading back to the diner."

"'_Kay, be right there."_

Before Rory could even process that something felt out of place, Lorelai was standing right in front of Luke. Rory held her breath while Sookie bounced in place and stifled her giggles. She watched her mom speak softly to Luke, smile up at him, and place a hand on his arm. And then …

They kissed!

Sure, it was just a light peck, but it was on the lips and….

"Sookie, are Babette and Miss Patty in the dining room?"

The chef didn't have to say a word. A moment later, it seemed like everyone in the entire inn was talking at once. Babette's raspy voice cheered on the new couple. Miss Patty's sultry "My my my" could be heard over Taylor whining, "Well, isn't this a fine mess?"

The whites of Luke's eyes were visible even at this distance. He must not have anticipated such a strong reaction. Lorelai took pity on him and shooed him out the door.

"Young lady, you get your little tushy over here," Miss Patty demanded.

Sookie shuffled down the hall to join the discussion. Grateful that everyone's attention was on her mom, Rory entered the dining room right behind Sookie.

"Since when have you and Luke been datin', honey?" Babette asked.

"Oh, how do you measure these things really?" Lorelai demurred. "We went to Liz's wedding together, we made plans to go see a movie. You know."

"No, I did _not_ know," Miss Patty said emphatically. "The wedding was a week ago and you two didn't kiss goodbye at the diner the other day."

"Well, we're taking this one step at a time. Being mature adults about it."

"I should hope so," Taylor huffed. "The last thing we need is–"

"Oh, Taylor, nobody cares what you think," Miss Patty said with a dismissive wave.

Rory finally caught her mom's eye and gave her a wide, approving smile. Lorelai giggled and rolled her eyes at their crazy, loveable town.

"Oh, Rory! There you are, sugah. Did you see what just happened?"

She nervously glanced at Lorelai who didn't seem to have any reaction to Babette's comment. "I did. Pretty exciting, huh?"

"I'll say!"

Once the din died down a little and most of the guests moved on to other topics, Rory sidled up to her mom. "Hey, do you have a sec?"

"Sure. I need a break from the interrogations anyway."

The two women snuck off to Lorelai's office. Her mom flung herself dramatically onto the couch. "That was exhausting!" Lorelai said as if she had just run a marathon.

"So it's officially official, I see."

"It is. We had a good talk and we're still on for our date tonight."

"Good. That's good." Rory waited. Now that they were alone, she expected her mom to point out that Rory didn't return to the inn last night. The only question had been whether Lorelai would be upset by this.

Now, though, Rory had to wonder if her mom even noticed her absence. Lorelai continued to lounge on the couch and fanned herself, still acting like she was recovering from being put through the wringer.

"So…." Rory hadn't planned on being the one to start this conversation and found herself at a bit of a loss.

"Hmm?" Lorelai hummed absently.

"Um, well, I don't know if you noticed, but I didn't come back to our room last night."

"Oh?" Lorelai stopped fanning herself. While she didn't look surprised, she didn't look like she was hearing something she already knew, either.

"Yeah. I actually stayed at home after you left."

"You did?" She sat up a little but just looked interested, not mad.

"Mm hmm. And so did … Marty."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. And we, um. I mean, it finally happened."

A soft spread across Lorelai's face. "Yeah?"

Rory blushed. "Yeah."

"And was it okay?"

Rory shook her head. "It was perfect."

Lorelai leaned over and wrapped her arms around Rory. "Oh hon, I'm so happy for you."

"Thanks, Mom," she said as they pulled away.

"So is Marty still here?"

"No, he had to go back to Hartford to catch his bus home. But at least we got to spend the night together, you know?"

Lorelai smiled knowingly. "Yeah, that's always nice."

Rory raised one eyebrow without asking. She wasn't sure she wanted to know.

* * *

_Dut dut dut dut dut dut dut dut…._

As Rory twiddled the pencil between her fingers absently, the eraser end bounced off the registration book. Her other hand was occupied with re-reading her texts with Marty.

He'd caught the bus, though barely, and just a little while ago he arrived at home. Rory'd let him know she was helping her mom check out the guests so she'd call him after that.

Glancing at the time, she wondered how much longer the last few stragglers would stay. It was already almost one. Just then, the front door opened.

"Grandma!"

"Hello, Rory. You sound surprised," Emily critiqued.

"I am a little."

"Don't we have a one o'clock lunch date?"

"Yes, but you–"

"So it's one o'clock and I'm here."

Rory put on a tight smile. "Of course. Let me just see where it's being set up."

She swiftly glided into the kitchen, glad to find both her mom and Sookie there. "Grandma's here for lunch!"

Lorelai's eyes scrunched, trying to compute this new information. "But she left." Meanwhile, Sookie immediately started grabbing plates, silverware, and napkins.

"I know that, you know that, but apparently she doesn't know that. I told her I was checking where it was being set up."

"Tell her the garden," Sookie said. "I'll have Derek sneak out the back and set the table before you take her out there."

After many frantic "thank you"s, the young Gilmores joined Emily in the lobby. They stalled as much as they could, then walked Emily the long way around the building where Derek stood at the ready to pull their chairs out for them. Rory took in her surroundings and saw several other guests enjoying the afternoon. All of a sudden, she realized they could have a problem. Rory surreptitiously whispered to her mom while Emily made her drink request. "Luke."

Lorelai glanced around eagerly. "Where?"

Rory grabbed her mom's elbow to redirect her attention. She shook her head and nodded toward Emily, hoping Lorelai would catch her meaning. Thank God her grandmother ordered like Sally Albright.

"_NO!_" Lorelai mouthed.

"Do you want _them_ to?" she muttered through clenched teeth, eyeing the people who could walk up to the table and accidentally be the first to tell Emily about the new couple.

"What are you two whispering about?" Emily inquired.

"Nothing, Mom," Lorelai said hastily. "Just discussing what we want to drink."

Emily regally raised an eyebrow. "I didn't realize a committee was needed."

The three women sat in silence as they waited for their drinks to arrive. Rory struggled to find a conversation starter. All that was new was the test run, which would just remind everyone of last night's blow up so that was out. There was Luke and her mom, but Lorelai had to be the one who initiated that topic. And of course, there was her big news with Marty, which was _not_ grandmother-appropriate.

"The weather's lovely," Emily said, finally breaking the tension.

"Yes, it is." Lorelai's eyes darted around. Apparently, she was on the lookout for anyone with a big mouth who might approach them.

"Very lovely," Rory agreed.

"Yes … Lovely," Emily said absently, then hesitated.

Just as her grandmother opened her mouth to speak again, Rory followed her mom's wide-eyed gaze to Miss Patty who was walking in their general direction. The two older Gilmores ended up speaking over each other.

"Well, I don't see any–"

"Mom, I have some news!"

"Lorelai," Emily scolded. "Don't interrupt me."

Miss Patty veered over toward the stables, allowing Lorelai to sigh in relief. "I didn't. At least, no more than you interrupted me."

"I didn't interrupt you."

"Then I didn't interrupt _you_," Lorelai countered.

"You most certainly did interrupt me."

"Then you interrupted me, too."

Rory had a sneaking suspicion her mom was trying to distract Emily into forgetting about Lorelai's news.

"Lorelai, are you about to ask me 'Who's on first?'"

"I don't know."

"Third base!" Rory chirped reflexively.

"Girls! I have something very important to tell you."

"Sorry, Mom. Go ahead."

"This may shock you, but unfortunately there's nothing I can do about that now. Lorelai, Rory, Richard and I have separated."

Rory frowned sadly. "I'm sorry, Grandma."

"Yeah. I mean, I knew you and Dad were going through a thing, but I figured you'd make up."

"Well, we didn't."

"Do you think you will?" Rory asked.

"There doesn't seem to be much hope for reconciliation. Well, what's done is done. I'm moving on. And to celebrate the next stage of my life, I'm going to Europe by myself for the very first time since I was in college. I'm leaving tonight."

Rory reeled a bit in surprise. "Tonight? That's fast."

"Well, I wanted to leave quickly. And Rory, I would be thrilled to have your company on this very special occasion."

"Oh!" Rory considered this offer while Emily rambled on about the proper way to see Europe. Though an all-expenses-paid trip would certainly be nice, all Rory could think about was how much she was looking forward to the visits she had planned with Marty; especially his birthday party.

"Well, then? What do you say?" Emily asked. "Would you like to be impulsive with me?"

"That's very generous of you, but I'm going to pass."

Lorelai tried and failed to hide her knowing smile.

"I understand. This is very last minute. All right, then, Lorelai. What is your big news?"

Rory giggled at how quickly the smile fell from her mom's face. So much for distracting Emily.

"Uh, wha? Oh, it's nothing. I mean, I don't even remember what I was – so you and Dad, huh?"

"Lorelai," Emily said sternly.

With a sigh, Lorelai resigned herself to the inevitable. "Well, now I kind of feel bad telling you after your news."

"Please. I'm a grown woman. I should think I can handle it."

"Okay. So, the thing is, I'm seeing someone."

Emily smiled brightly. "Oh, that's wonderful."

"Yeah?"

"Of course. And what's even more wonderful is the fact that I'm hearing this from you rather than having another embarrassing scenario with one of your friends."

Lorelai rolled her eyes at her mom's little dig.

"So, who is this gentleman?"

"Luke."

Rory saw her grandmother's smile falter ever so slightly.

"Luke? He runs that diner, correct?"

"That's him."

"Well. That's … lovely." Emily took a sip of her iced tea. "So, is there anything in particular you'd like me to bring back from Europe?"

Rory and Lorelai shared a disappointed glance before falling in line with the new subject.

* * *

"But I told her I had to pass. After all, I already have plans for the summer," Rory said coyly. She'd called Marty when she left the Dragonfly and was now sitting in the gazebo since she couldn't go into Luke's talking on her cell.

"_Wow. I rank higher than a trip to Europe? That's quite the ego boost."_

"What makes you so sure I was talking about you?" she teased. "I was referring to my very prestigious job at the Gazette, of course."

"_Oh, of course,"_ he said, playing along.

"Getting to see you a couple times is just a perk to staying in the states."

"_Mmm, I see how it is. Well, speaking of very prestigious jobs, I have to head over to mine in a minute."_

Rory pouted slightly. "Okay. Well, I'm glad we caught each other."

"_Me too. I'll call you after we close."_

"Sounds good. Love you."

"_Love you, too."_

Rory stood up and crossed to the diner. Just as she opened the door, Luke picked up his ringing phone.

"Luke's."

She took a seat at the counter and pulled out her notebook to begin writing a blurb about the test run while she waited to order some coffee.

"What? Are you okay? … Your leg? … Ah jeez, Liz."

This caught Rory's attention. Though she didn't know Liz well enough to be too concerned, the distress in Luke's voice was very apparent.

"Maine? … Tonight? … A couple weeks!" Luke sighed heavily. "Yeah. Yeah, of course I'll be there."

"No!" Rory practically shouted as she leapt to her feet. The whole diner looked up from their meals at her outburst.

Luke stared at her agape. "Hang on a sec, Liz."

Rory shrank back down onto her stool, mortified.

Luke held the phone against his chest and leaned forward to whisper to her. "You all right?"

"You can't leave." She hated the pleading tone in her voice, but was too desperate to care. "You have a date with my mom tonight. Everyone's counting on this."

"Rory, I _have_ to go. My sister broke her leg, TJ broke his arm, and she needs someone to run her booth or she might lose her spot."

"Okay, but do you have to go tonight? Will she lose her spot if it's closed for one day?"

Luke considered this, then returned the phone to his ear. "Liz, I'm not sure I can make it up there today. How about I drive up tomorrow night and open your booth first thing in the morning?"

Rory waited anxiously for the response. Finally, Luke gave her a thumbs-up.

"Yeah, okay. I'll call you later to get the details. You just listen to the doctor, okay? … I'll see you then."

Luke hung up the phone. When he walked back to Rory, he leaned on the counter, propping himself up on his crossed arms. "So, 'everybody's' counting on this, huh?"

She smiled, slightly embarrassed by how much she had given herself away. "Pretty much."

"I take it that means I have everyone's approval?"

Rory studied his eyes, surprised that he seemed almost scared she might say no. "Absolutely," she whispered. She couldn't let him go without a little teasing, though. "As long as your intentions are honorable, that is."

"Absolutely," he said in all earnestness.

* * *

After dinner, Luke helped Lorelai up from the booth. She felt a little light on her feet and didn't think the champagne Maisy insisted on was the only thing to blame. Luke had said he was all in. And the way he looked at her when he said it … Lorelai's heart fluttered all over again, just like it did when she told him she wasn't scared.

They stepped outside to find the night had chilled since they arrived. Luke opened his truck door for her again. Lorelai shivered while he walked around to the driver's side despite her long sleeves. As soon as Luke turned on the engine, she reached over to crank up the heat.

"You cold?" Luke asked.

"Little bit," she answered, shivering again.

He reached his arm out and for a moment Lorelai hoped he was going to hold her close to warm her up. Instead, his hand went behind her seat and produced a red jacket with white arms.

"You can wear this if you want," Luke said, handing it to her.

Lorelai unfolded the jacket and looked it over. There was a large M on the front and the number twelve on the back. She broke into a gleeful smile.

"You found your letter jacket for me?"

Luke put the truck into gear and steered out of the parking lot. "I opened a couple boxes. It's no big deal."

She eagerly pulled it on. "It is so a big deal," Lorelai said in a high pitched voice. The arms were a bit oversized on her, so she pushed the cuffs up to expose her hands. "Everyone's gonna know we're going steady now. I can't wait to show Buffy."

"Ah jeez."

When they arrived at the movie theatre, Lorelai didn't drop her bit.

"Do you like my jacket?" she asked the high school girl who took their tickets. "He just gave it to me tonight. We're gonna sit in the last row and make out."

"No, we're not. We're not gonna … Just ignore her," he said to the bewildered girl.

They picked out some seats, not in the back row, and Lorelai was pleased to find the theatre was new enough to have armrests that lifted out of the way. She snuggled up to Luke who put his arm around her.

Lorelai noticed she wasn't really following the movie. She wasn't even giving her usual running commentary. Lorelai was too aware of Luke's breath in her hair, of his hand on her arm, of her leg against his. It brought back so many nice memories of the night before.

She looked up and found him gazing at her. When she tilted her chin up to him, Luke dipped his head to give her a kiss.

"I thought you said we weren't going to make out," Lorelai whispered.

"You can't honestly think _this_ is making out."

"It isn't?" she asked with faux-innocence. "Then what is?"

"I'll show you later," he murmured in her ear.

She flashed him a devilish grin. "I'm gonna hold you to that, mister."

A while later, the truck pulled into her driveway. Lorelai waited for Luke to open her door. It was an antiquated tradition that made her feel a bit self-conscious. However, any reason for Luke to take her hand was a good one in her book.

At her door, Luke circled her waist with his arm and pulled her into a kiss. Their lips parted to let their tongues join in the fun. Lorelai became flushed and breathless in no time at all.

"Oh, so _this_ is making out," she teased.

Luke chuckled and pulled away slightly. "I had a really good time tonight."

"What are you talking about?"

His brow furrowed. "Tonight. Our date. I really enjoyed it."

Lorelai gave him a sultry smile. "You say that like it's over." She turned around and walked through her door, waiting for him to follow.

He hesitated, then cautiously crossed her threshold. "What about…." His voice trailed off as he looked into the kitchen.

"She's sleeping over at Lane's." They shared a gaze, heavy with meaning. "It was hard enough being good last night. I don't really want to wait a few weeks. Do you?"

"God, no," Luke growled.

They stepped into each other's arms again and picked up right where they left off on the porch. Soon, Lorelai's whimpers turned into moans. When he kissed her neck, Luke tried to push the letter jacket off her shoulders.

Suddenly, she had an idea. "Hang on," Lorelai said, pulling out of their embrace. "Let me just, uh, I'll be right back." She darted into the bathroom.

"Sorry, did I do something…?" Luke asked on the other side of the door.

"No, no, you're fine," she called out, hoping he wouldn't hear what she was up to. "I just didn't want to take the jacket off yet."

"Okaaay. But you will eventually, won't you?" he asked hopefully.

Lorelai pulled the zipper about halfway up and then opened the door. She placed each hand on a jamb and tossed her curls around. "Eventually," she said with a smirk.

Luke's jaw almost hit the ground. "My god," he said, taking her in. Her creamy décolletage was framed on either side by nothing but the jacket. The waist hugged her thighs, just barely covering her ass, and from there her long, bare legs rubbed against each other seductively.

Mesmerized, he reached for the zipper.

"Ah ah ah," Lorelai scolded and dodged his grasp to head toward the stairs. "Not yet." She turned around on the first step, delighted to see him chasing after her.

"Please," Luke begged. His hands went to the backs of her thighs when he kissed her. Slowly, they crept higher. Just as they were about to sneak under the jacket, Lorelai moved up a step.

"Wait."

He advanced on her. "I can't."

Lorelai giggled as he matched each of her steps instantly.

On a landing, Luke devoured her neck, licking and sucking until she trembled in his arms.

"You're amazing," he murmured in a voice strained with want.

He could take her right there on the hard stairs for all Lorelai cared. Luke's hands glided up her thighs again and this time she didn't stop him. She couldn't. Cupping her cheeks, he lifted her with ease. Lorelai circled her legs around his waist and kissed him hungrily. Steady, strong steps brought them to bedroom where he set her on her feet gently.

Together, they peeled Luke's layers of clothing from his body. Lorelai hummed in admiration each time they exposed a new portion of his toned flesh.

He unzipped her much more slowly than she expected. His eyes took in every new square inch of her body with an intensity she'd never known before. Luke reached his arms inside the jacket and pulled her naked body against his. He lifted her again and sat down on the edge of her bed.

He kissed her lips, her chin, her throat, her collarbone. Lorelai felt him arch her backwards, supporting her with his strong hands. Luke kissed down her chest until he took one of her nipples into his mouth. She let her head drop back as she gave into the sensations.

"I've wanted this for so long," he whispered against her skin.

"Why didn't you say something; do something?"

"I thought it was just your standard physical attraction. That I'd cross a line if I acted on it."

"What changed?"

"I saw your face."

Lorelai straightened up and smoothed her fingertips along his forehead and cheek. "I don't understand."

"When I thought about who I'd want to share good news with, or who I actually liked helping, I saw you every time."

So rarely did Lorelai find herself speechless that occasions like this stood out to her. To cover her loss for words, she shrugged the jacket off her shoulders and let it slip to the floor. She kissed him and leaned forward, guiding him down to the bed.

Mimicking his recent actions, Lorelai kissed his chin, his throat, his chest. When she crawled back up his body to kiss him deeply, she shifted so her entrance was over his shaft. She broke the kiss and looked into his eyes with an intense gaze that matched his own. Lorelai pressed herself onto him, moaning at the look of bliss on his face as well as her own gratification.

She moved slowly at first to draw out the pleasure of their union. Their breaths mixed together with each pant or murmur. Luke's hands moved over skin and she relished every caress.

Lorelai felt the tightness build inside her. A whimper escaped her lips. "Luke." She placed a palm on the headboard to give herself more leverage. Within seconds, her movements were not her own. A primal being took over, convulsing her body uncontrollably. She felt Luke swell inside of her as they released years of pent up tension.

As her motions slowed, Lorelai came back to herself. She gazed down at Luke with a feline smile. "_That_ was amazing."

He kissed his agreement until she had to collapse onto his chest. One hand stroked the skin on her back as their heart rates returned to normal.

Just as she drifted off to sleep, Lorelai heard him whisper, "I am so glad I found that jacket."


	32. It's All Fun and Games, dot dot dot

**AN:** Holy shee-ite. I know it's been a while. I'll get to my defense after the chapter. Thanks so much to those of you who took the time to review the previous chapter. Now on with the show!

* * *

Marty bounded out his front door as the Prius crunched along the gravel driveway. Once her door opened, he pulled Rory into his arms and let his lips do the greeting.

"Happy birthday!" she chirped.

"Thanks. You made great time."

The passenger door opened. "Yeah, little Miss Goody Two Shoes here can be quite the speed demon when properly motivated," Carl said as he stepped out.

Reluctantly, Marty released his hold on Rory so he could give his former roommate a man-hug. "Hey man! Thanks for coming."

"Sure thing. You wanna help me grab this stuff?"

The two boys reached into the back seat for the bags while Rory surreptitiously grabbed a few items from the trunk.

"You need a hand with that?" Marty asked, startling Rory into bumping her head on the lid. "You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," she said as she closed the trunk hastily.

"What about that?" he asked, referring to the old fashioned footlocker that had just disappeared from view.

"No, that can stay," she said a little too casually.

He eyed her suspiciously. "You're up to something."

"Who, me?" Rory asked with wide, innocent eyes, and then attempted to distract him with a kiss.

"It's going to take a lot more than that to get me to stop digging."

She raised one saucy eyebrow at him and whispered, "Challenge accepted."

He stood there, goggling at her as she walked into the house. Carl held the door open for him. "You coming?" Marty shook his head clear and followed them in.

"Rory!" Martha cooed, gathering the girl into a warm embrace. "Good to see you didn't get lost this time."

"I'm never going to live that down, am I?" Rory sighed.

"And Carl, it's nice to have you over finally."

"Thanks, Mrs. F."

Martha leaned into the stairway and shouted, "Eddy! They're here!"

The youngest Fischer came thundering down and introduced himself to Carl.

"Show him up to your room," Martha said to Eddy. "I already changed the sheets on Danny's old bed – and when you come back down I'll have lunch ready."

Rory and Marty followed them up so she could deposit her bags in Marty's room … and make good on her promise by pulling him into a deep kiss and giving his wandering hands free reign.

"This whole long distance thing sucks," he murmured.

"I concur," she said breathlessly.

A knock on the door sent them into a fit of stifled giggles.

"Yeah, we'll be right there," Marty called out.

_"Kids these days," _Carl sighed dramatically to Eddy out in the hallway.

* * *

George walked in the front door just as Marty and his girlfriend reached the bottom step. He gave them a curt nod in greeting on his way to the kitchen table. He loaded his plate with a hefty sandwich, snagged a beer from the fridge, and took a seat at the end of the table.

As everyone else talked and laughed, he studied the girlfriend. She certainly wasn't a normal girl – she didn't wear makeup, jewelry, or pretty clothes – but she wasn't especially odd either. George shook his head, still unable to make any sense of her interest in Marty.

When the others started playing cards, George left the table with his beer and headed to the living room. The Sox were on, and in his opinion there was no better way to spend a Saturday afternoon. Papi stepped to the plate with no men on. After a few pitches, he clocked one over the Green Monster. Though the crowd cheered as Papi jogged around the bases, George muttered, "What a waste," since no other runs were brought in. Manny entered the batter's box, and George settled in for a long standoff. Ball, strike, ball, ball, strike, foul, foul, foul, foul, f….

George roused himself with a snort. His eyes darted around as he got his bearings. He was in his recliner and the game was still on but his hands were empty. George looked to his left and found his can on the end table. Martha must have put it there to keep him from spilling it. When he reached for the drink, he noticed Marty through the doorway, playing his guitar at the dining room table.

"You still wasting your time with that?" George called over.

Marty paused, then slipped a pencil from his ear. "Didn't mean to wake you, Dad," he said as he jotted some notes down on a piece of paper.

"That's no answer." George rose from the recliner and ambled into the other room. "Why do you keep messing around with this thing? You won't make it as a musician any more than you will as a writer, you know." He pulled out a chair and dropped into it.

"That's not – I'm just writing a song for Rory," Marty said with exasperation. He kept his head bent over the strings as he strummed a few chords.

"Exactly. Waste of time. Where is that girlfriend of yours anyway? Finally dumped you?" George chuckled at his own joke and took a swig.

"She took Carl and Eddy to go decorate for the party. She wanted me to be surprised." After a moment's hesitation, the boy continued. "Look, I'm not going to say Rory'll never dump me, but she wouldn't do it on my birthday. She does like me at least a little bit."

George scoffed. "For now."

Marty finally raised his head and frowned.

"Don't you look at me like that. I know you think I'm just being an asshole, but you need to wake up to reality. Sure, you guys are having fun now. But when you graduate from that preppy little cocoon you call college, then what? You'll be up to your neck in debt and writers aren't well known for their regular paychecks. Do you really think she's going to want to stay with someone who can't support her?"

The boy furrowed his brow and shook his head. "Rory isn't the kind of girl who expects a guy to support her."

George's dry laugh was drowned out when the front door opened and excited chatter poured into the house. He stood up and right before he left the room, George pointedly said, "For now."

He headed upstairs and found that Martha had laid out an outfit for him. It still irked him when she did this.

_I'm a grown man, after all._

However, he had long ago given up that battle. When it came to what he wore at social gatherings, Martha could be rather fussy.

As he changed, George mulled over his sons. Danny had done it right. He just finished his associate degree – a lot cheaper and a lot faster than some silly bachelor's degree in fairy tales – and started a job at the beginning of the summer. Two years out of high school and he had his own place and everything. Eddy just graduated from high school and he was on the same track. Meanwhile, Marty would be living at home for at least three more years with no guarantee of an income afterwards.

_What the hell was that boy thinking?_

A short time later, the six of them piled into the minivan and headed over to Jerry's bar. They walked in and the first thing George noticed were the loud, neon bright colors strewn all over the place.

"Jesus," he muttered. He saw his brother behind the bar and gave him a quick nod. Then George spotted a figure at a table. "Danny!" he shouted and headed over to greet his first born. He took a seat and ordered a pitcher of beer when the waiter came around.

_Thum thum thum._ "Hello, everyone."

George looked up and saw the girlfriend at the end of the room with the most balloons, standing at a microphone. She had some sort of metal mesh on her hair, a large, metallic, moon-shaped collar across her chest, and gold cuffs on her wrists.

"Um, sorry for interrupting, but as you may have noticed, we have a bit of a shin dig going on. Today is Marty's birthday, and in celebration we're having an '80s karaoke night. It's open to anyone, even if you don't know Marty, and if you want some help getting into character, we have a trunk full of inspiration right over there." She gestured over to an open footlocker that was overflowing with shirts and boas and hats. "I'll be starting things off here, so if you want to hear better singing you'll have to sign up! … Oh, and I'm Rory."

George shook his head at the latest silliness.

_"All the old paintings on the tomb…."_

He turned to Danny and asked, "Did you do anything stupid like this when you turned nineteen?"

"No way. We bought a keg and I ended up getting my stomach pumped."

George thumped Danny on the back. "See? That's how you party." He glanced around the room and saw Martha sitting with Jerry at another table, laughing and singing along. "I better go rescue your mother," he said, knowing how annoying his weenie little brother could be.

As he walked over, he saw Jerry excuse himself and head back to the bar.

"Can you believe this?" George grumbled.

"I know, isn't it great?" Martha said enthusiastically.

"Great? It's ridiculous!"

Martha sighed. "I thought maybe we could sing a duet later on."

"Not with me. How much is this costing us, anyway?"

"This was all Rory's doing. She only had to buy the decorations because she borrowed the karaoke machine and the costumes from some lady in her town, and she set it up here because Jerry wouldn't charge them. Wasn't that nice of him?"

A swell of cheering and applause caught George's attention and he turned toward the commotion. "Oh you've got to be kidding me."

Marty stepped up to the microphone with mussed up hair, red plastic sunglasses, a white shirt with the collar popped and the cuffs rolled up, a black tie, and suspenders. As the music started up, he did a few robot moves which elicited approving laughter from the crowd.

_"I wear my sunglasses at night, so I can, so I can…."_

"He's making a fool of himself!" George exclaimed right as Marty thrashed his head from side to side.

"He's having fun," Martha countered irritably.

"He's playing dress up like a ninny is what he's doing."

"George, he's nineteen. When are you going to just let him be?"

"I don't care how old he is." George jabbed his finger on the table emphatically. "As long as he's my son, I'm going to do whatever it takes to make a man out of him!"

He took a gulp of beer and slammed the glass back down. After a handful of bar nuts, he realized it was odd that Martha hadn't scolded him for his comment. She was always coddling that boy. George looked over and saw her staring at him, ashen faced.

"What?" he asked.

* * *

Rory cocked her elbows and wrists at right angles as she danced around to her song, making Marty's stomach hurt from laughing so hard. Though she sang rather timidly, she put on a great show.

Marty glanced over to see how his family was enjoying the party. Eddy was hanging out with Nick and Ben at the next table. His dad and Danny had a pitcher, so they were all set. He noticed his mom and Uncle Jerry singing along, playfully elbowing each other and laughing.

When Rory stepped away from the mike, he rewarded her with a huge hug. "You were great!"

She beamed at him. "Thanks. Now it's your turn."

Everyone cheered when he moved into position. Playing to the crowd, Marty jerked his arms around robotically.

As he started singing, he noticed his uncle, back to work at the bar, giving him a thumbs-up and a wide smile.

_"So I can, so I can watch you weave then breathe your story lines…."_

Marty bopped around and did his best impression of a cheesy '80s pop star. He watched the little screen with the lyrics sometimes, but he knew the words well enough that he could get his groove on. Periodically, he gripped the microphone and turned away for a dramatic effect.

Rory sat front and center, leading the cheering section. Nick and Ben laughed and clapped at his antics while their dates perused the song lists. There were probably about fifteen people there for his party, including his family. He knew most of the other people from having served them when he worked behind the counter.

Marty glanced over to see how his mom was enjoying the show. He was a little disappointed that she wasn't really watching him. His parents seemed to be in the middle of an argument. Marty stumbled over a couple lyrics but fell back into sync easily.

It not like seeing his parents fight was rare. Far from it, in fact. All the same, Marty had hoped his birthday would've been an occasion special enough for them to avoid bickering in public.

Out of the corner of his eye, Marty saw George poke the table, apparently driving some point home. His mom seemed kind of taken aback. Marty quickly scanned the crowd. So far, no one had picked up on their heated discussion.

His mom shook her head and said something. Now it was his dad's turn to look taken aback. What didn't make sense was that a second later it looked like George let out a sigh of relief. Some more words were exchanged and his dad grabbed his mom's elbow aggressively.

Behind the safety of the dark lenses, Marty squeezed his eyes closed to shut out the scene in front of him. He willed his parents to stop, just stop.

When he opened his eyes at the end of his song, his prayers were half answered. His dad was nowhere to be seen and his mom was at the bar with Uncle Jerry, holding her head in her hands.

Marty walked back to his table and was greeted with approving slaps on his back. For a moment, he locked eyes with his uncle across the room. Marty cocked his head, hoping Jerry would pick up on the subtle request for some indication of what was going on. If his uncle was sending him a message, Marty didn't get it. Jerry's stare just seemed full of sadness and … longing.

By the end of the night, his dad hadn't come back. Jerry said goodnight like nothing had happened, but the hug he gave Marty lasted a little longer than usual. Martha made some vague excuse for George's absence as they loaded the decorations back into the minivan.

"Is everything okay?" Rory whispered over the footlocker as they carried it outside.

"Yeah. Unfortunately, this is pretty normal."

"I'm sorry."

Marty shrugged. "It's no big deal. He'll probably stay out all night and then just show up at breakfast tomorrow where they'll both act like everything's fine."

Rory pinched her mouth to one side in sympathy.

Fortunately the ride home was short, and Carl, who was oblivious to the family drama, entertained everyone with his own impromptu karaoke by energetically singing along with the radio.

Once they arrived at the house, everyone took turns in the bathroom before settling in.

"Good night, John-boy!" Carl called from Eddy's room.

"Good night, Mary Ellen!" Marty shouted back.

He shut the door, and the moment he turned around, Rory drew him into a heated kiss. Marty chuckled against her lips. "You know, I was at the party. I figured out what you were up to with that footlocker, so you don't need to keep distracting me."

"That not what I'm doing and you know it," she chided.

"Mmm, long distance still taking its toll?"

"That … and you looked really good up there tonight."

Marty pulled back and smirked at her. "Good, huh? Good how?"

She mock-glared at him. "Good good."

He raised an eyebrow, letting her know he wanted a better explanation.

"Good cute," Rory said flippantly. Then she brought her lips to his ear and whispered, "Good … sexy."

Marty's eyes closed involuntarily as he absorbed the warm tone of her compliment. He turned his head slightly and kissed behind her ear. When his lips trailed down her neck, he started walking them closer to his bed. Item by item, their clothes dotted the short path across his room.

They sank into the sheets together, relishing each others' smooth and heated skin.

Marty wrenched his mouth from hers for a moment. "You have to be quiet this time. Even if my mom buys the stubbed toe story again, Carl would never fall for it."

"I'll do my best," she purred.

* * *

The next morning, a very content Marty lead a very satisfied looking Rory downstairs. They were both smiling like fools when they walked into the kitchen. However, one look at Eddy's somber face, and Marty knew something was wrong.

His mom was at the stove tending to some eggs.

"Morning, Mom," he said cautiously.

Martha looked over her shoulder and gave him a forced smile. "Oh, good morning, you two. I hope you're hungry!"

"Yeah. Thanks." Nothing really seemed out of place yet. Sure, he knew his mom was faking her cheeriness, but that's how she always acted after a fight even without company around. Marty sat down next to Eddy and whispered, "What's up?"

"Dad's still not home," Eddy mumbled gravely.

Marty shared a concerned glance with Rory.

At that moment, Carl stumbled groggily into the room. "Oh my god, something smells good. Please tell me I get to have some."

"Have a seat. It'll be ready in a second," Martha said sweetly.

Carl yawned loudly and complied. He propped his head up on his hand and addressed his fellow Elis. "So, what's on the fire for today? We have..." Carl searched the room for a clock. "...Eight hours before we should leave. If you two need some alone time, I'd be happy to crash again after we eat."

Rory hesitated, eyeing the Fischer clan warily. "Actually, we should probably hit the road after breakfast. You can sleep in the car."

Carl furrowed his brow skeptically. "Seriously? I thought for sure I'd have to drag you out of here to keep us from getting home crazy late."

"Well, my mom sent me a text last night saying she needed help at the inn, so I kind of have to go earlier."

Marty gave her a weak smile, silently thanking her for covering for his messed up family. He knew full well there had been no such text.

Fortunately, Carl was so out of it he never asked about George, and the others were careful to avoid the topic. All too soon, the meal was over and the last few bags were being loaded into Rory's car.

"Let me know how things go, okay?" she said as she hugged Marty goodbye.

"I will. Love you."

"Love you, too."

Once the Prius turned out of the driveway, Marty walked back inside.

"Do we at least know if he's okay?" he asked from the kitchen doorway.

Martha continued washing dishes, ignoring the question.

Eddy answered for her. "The police haven't heard anything. I called Danny so he's already out looking for him."

Marty nodded, wondering if he should take the van to double the search efforts. Not that he'd really know where to start. "Mom, what's going on?"

She shook her head. "Everything's fine. You know how he gets. He just needs some time to himself. It'll be fine. It'll be fine."

Her last two statements came out like a hollow chant, meant to convince herself more than her sons.

Just as Marty was about to offer to do the dishes, the front door opened and Danny walked in looking like he'd just wrestled a bear. Out in the driveway, George could be heard slamming a car door and hollering about being bossed around.

A plate clattered in the sink. Marty turned to see Martha wringing her wet hands. He grabbed a dish towel and handed it to his mom, putting an arm around her shoulder for support.

Eddy went down the hall and must have asked Danny what he knew because Marty heard snippets of his older brother saying, "…not sure…" and "…wouldn't say…."

There was a scuffle as George bowled his two sons aside. "If you're gonna make me come back here, then get out of my way!" he barked.

"What the hell is going on!" Danny yelled. "This isn't how this goes! You're supposed to come back in the middle of the night!"

"Don't you raise your voice to me! I'm still _your_ father!"

"I'm not supposed to have to drive all over town looking for you," Danny continued in a blind fury equal to George's. "And when you get home you're supposed to be your normal angry self, not this raging beast."

"I HAVE EVERY RIGHT TO RAGE!" George hollered, shoving Danny up against a wall.

"Dad! Stop!" Marty yelped, racing down the hall to help Eddy free Danny.

George turned his glare on Marty in shock. For a moment, Marty was sure he was about to take Danny's place against the wall. Then George looked toward the kitchen. "You didn't tell him?"

Before Marty had time to wonder why his dad said "him" and not "them," all heads turned to Martha who was standing at the kitchen threshold, quaking. Danny took the opportunity to release himself from his dad's grip.

"George, please. Let's talk first, just you and me."

"He'll have to find out eventually. I'm not hiding this for you!" He pointed an accusatory finger at his wife.

There it was again. George said "he" not "they."

"I know. I know. I just want–"

"I don't care what you want! You've done enough of what you want!"

"I'm sorry!" Martha wailed, near tears. "I'm so sorry, George. Please believe me!"

The three boys turned to their father with eerily similar scowls.

"No!" George bellowed. "I am not the asshole here. I didn't cause this!"

In the standoff that followed, the only sounds were Martha's whimpering and George's heaving breath.

"Mom?" Marty asked, breaking the relative silence.

"I … I cheated," Martha whispered.

The brothers all looked abashed. Not only was George's outburst understandable now, none of them really wanted to be here for this conversation anymore.

"Are you getting divorced?" Eddy asked.

"That's one of the things we'll have to talk about," Martha answered.

Marty furrowed his brow. While Eddy was looking ahead to what would happen next, something tugged at him. George's cryptic words told him they hadn't heard the full story yet. "There's more," he mumbled.

Danny shoved his shoulder. "You knew about this?"

"No," Marty insisted. "I can just tell, there's something they haven't told us yet."

George stared at his wife with an irritatingly superior expression.

Martha stared at the ground for a minute. When she finally raised her head, she looked straight at Marty. "I'm so sorry."

Marty's eyes widened in alarm. He didn't know why she was only looking at him when she apologized. "What?"

Her voice was imploring, begging him to understand. "I thought it would be better this way."

_That_ didn't clear anything up. "I don't–"

"I didn't want you growing up–"

"Wait!" Marty interrupted. "When did this happen?" He'd assumed this was a recent betrayal.

"About nineteen years and nine months ago," she answered sheepishly.

"Holy shit," Eddy muttered.

Marty shut his eyes as he absorbed this slap to his senses. He replayed their fight, trying to figure out what might have been said when. Suddenly, he whipped his head to face George. "You were relieved," he said, appalled.

"And you're not?" George sneered at him.

He hadn't thought about it that way. Marty stood up a little straighter. "For the record, you sucked as a dad," he announced.

"Marty," his mom said in a soothing tone.

"And you!" Marty cried out, turning back to his mom. "All this time, you watched him treat me like shit when you knew I didn't have to put up with it. That I could have had someone else for a dad." A light bulb went off in his head. "Who?" he asked eagerly.

"Marty, please."

He set his jaw. "I deserve to know."

Martha looked a step away from a nervous breakdown. Her eyes darted around wildly, desperately searching for an ally.

Marty tried to soften his expression to coax a response out of her. "Mom, please."

"Jerry, okay? Uncle Jerry."

Uncle Jerry. Dad Jerry. Uncle Dad.

His back fell against the wall with a thud, and then he slumped to the ground, cradling his head in his arms. "What happens now?" Marty asked, his voice small and childlike.

"I don't know yet," his mom answered. "See, this is why I wanted us to talk first," she hissed at George.

"I wasn't about to let you talk me into sugarcoating your dirty little secret."

"That's not what I would've–"

Marty shot to his feet and stormed past George to the front door. "How about you just tell me when you've figured everything out so I can know where I'm sleeping tonight."

Halfway down the driveway he turned around and looked at the house. Marty had always known he was different from his rough housing, football playing, book shunning brothers/cousins. He'd been the odd man out from day one. Now he knew why.

He turned away from the house and continued walking.

What he didn't know was if his mom was right. Was this better? What would have happened if she'd confessed right away? Would he have grown up with Jerry instead? Would he have been ostracized by the town?

He wondered what made her finally confess. Had she always been planning on telling them and was just waiting for the right time? Holding off until Eddy graduated made sense, but Marty had no idea why she picked his birthday for the occasion.

He was so deep in thought, it wasn't until Danny purposely bumped shoulders with him that Marty realized his brothers/cousins had joined him. He glanced at the younger of the two.

Would Eddy still be here?

"Look," Danny said, breaking the silence. "You'll obviously be _allowed_ back home tonight, but if you don't want to stay there, you can always crash with me." He looked across Marty to Eddy. "Same goes for you, you know, if they're still going at it."

"Thanks," the two of them mumbled.

Marty kicked a rock in the road.

"So, what are you gonna do?" Danny asked.

Marty knew he was talking about more than just tonight. He shrugged. "Summer's mostly over. I could go back to Yale early in a couple weeks. I hear there are plenty of parties in the area around then. I could make some good money."

"And next summer?" Eddy asked.

Marty shook his head. "I don't know yet," he said, wondering if life would ever feel normal again.

* * *

**AN:** If anyone would like to see what Marty's karaoke performance might have looked like, go here, but swap in a . for the (period):  
youtube(period)com/watch?v=YyLYZun32IA  
Or you can Google: Wayne Wilcox BLT80s  
Many thanks go to MiguelCC51 for bringing this video to my attention and inspiring that little scene.

So yeah, this was the hardest chapter for me to write so far, hence the delay. I wrote a draft, edited the crap out of it, and then deemed it unworthy of your eyes and had to scrap it. Rinse and repeat until this third iteration. My biggest problem was that there was so much I wanted to put in but if I kept it all it would be crazy long, and not in a good way. I seriously hope you guys enjoyed it.

Oh, and if anyone's curious, the rest of the title for this chapter would be "Until Someone Loses His Paternity."


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